Careful What You Wish For
by Ambrelle Shirak
Summary: Season 6. Kayla Druin is a college freshman who is not supposed to exist... Is she the key to ending the War in Heaven, or the final nail in the coffin for all humanity?
1. Prologue

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_Prologue_

_1992_

Martin Druin watched the tiny squirming bundle lying in the crib. Chubby pink hands reached out toward him, grasping, then opening. He knew she only saw shapes, colors. That his face was merely a blob of peach, and his voice probably sounded like nonsense. But it didn't matter. He reached forward, smiling, and stuck his finger into the grasp of the tiny hand. He glanced up to the tiny cross hanging on the wall, just over the crib.

_Thank You, Father. Thank You, for allowing me to create life in Your image. For vanishing. _Martin looked down once more as the baby's grasp tightened around his finger. Sighing softly, he slipped his finger free, and tucked both of his hands beneath the baby's body. Lifting her free of her blankets, Martin began to rock and dance her around the small nursery. Settling her down into the crook of his arm, Martin set his free hand against her tiny chest.

"I'm sorry..." he murmured softly. In the space between breaths, he accomplished his task; unfortunately, his daughter began to wail, pain and fear combining into the very sort of cry every parent fears. Quickly Martin raised her to his shoulder, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. Hearing a noise down the hall, he quickly dropped his mask of serenity, and replaced it with one of the harrowed, new father, full of fear and brimming with exhaustion.

In the doorway, Daphne appeared in her nightgown, hastily pulling a terrycloth robe up over her shoulders. "Oh!" She paused there, relieved to find that Martin had already risen to take care of their new child. Barely three months old, little Kayla wailed with the gusto of someone who didn't know better. And Martin played his role to perfection. Unable to ease her crying, he looked beseechingly at his wife.

Daphne knew better then to wait to be asked again. She hurried forward, and eased Kayla out of Martin's arms. As she paced the small room, and sang under her breath to the child, Martin could only stand back to watch the magic being wrought. _There is no bond stronger than that of mother and child._ He mused silently, as the baby began to relax into her mother's grasp. Cries turned to whimpers, and Martin relaxed into the notion that Kayla would never remember the feeling of the Enochian sigils being carved into her bones. Time would never heal the marks, and she would be safe for eternity.

Martin crossed the distance between them as Daphne began to lay Kayla back down in her crib. Sliding one hand around his wife's waist, he pulled her back against him, to watch the baby for a few more moments.

"We created that." He whispered in her ear. "That tiny little miracle of life. She's ours, to protect and care for."

Daphne turned in his arms, grabbing his face for a kiss. She had no way of knowing, though, that the man she fell in love with, the man she married, was a complete and total fake. The thing inside Martin Druin smiled, and nuzzled Daphne's hair. She would never know, never even suspect that her husband was not who he claimed to be. She had wished for the perfect man, and she'd received him, she even called him her angel, sent from Heaven. If she only knew the truth...

* * *

_Present Day_

_2011_

Kayla woke in a small white room. At first she thought she was still in Phi Delta Kappa, and she had failed the test, passing out before the night had ended. Funny, she didn't remember feeling drunk in the least. While the other pledges were stumbling around, she was still showing off her tongue-twister abilities. So where was here, and how did she end up here?

Rubbing her face, she tried to wake herself up. The room was unlike any she'd seen in the sorority house before. For one thing, it was bright. So bright that the light seemed to come directly from the walls. Sitting up on the couch, she stretched, and yawned. Kayla took her time standing up; she was certain that at any moment, the alcohol she consumed would go rushing to her head. But nothing happened. She remained clear-minded, squinting into the light.

"Hello?"

The room didn't echo. It wouldn't, she figured, filled with the trinkets and paintings as it was. This definitely wasn't Phi Delta Kappa. None of the sisters were art majors; so this had to be another house. A rival maybe? A pledge room? Kayla brightened at the thought of that. She began a cautious circuit of the room, walking slowly around the large table that dominated the center. A fireplace on one wall was dark and cold, completely offsetting the painting that hung over it. _Angels, huh?_ One particular angel, she noticed. He bore a broadsword, and stood triumphant over a dragon. Kayla turned her head to the left. Maybe that was a serpent.

"Do you like it?" The deep voice from behind her caused her to jump. She backed up against the fireplace, hand over her head. Hadn't she just been completely alone? "Oh, I didn't mean to startle you. I saw you admiring the painting."

Every inch of her told her to be terrified. The man wasn't tall, but he was smartly dressed. The dark three-piece suit nearly matched the inky darkness of his skin. He smiled, showing how white both his eyes and his teeth were against the shadows of his skin. The smile was completely fake, mirthless.

"Look," Kayla was surprised to find herself shaking, but her voice sounded so much steadier than she was. "I don't know who you are, or where I am, so why don't you just let me go?"

The African-American shook his head, slowly, clucking his tongue. "I'm afraid that I can't do that, Kayla." She blanched, going a paler shade of white. For a moment, she worried that she would pass out again. "You see, you were very difficult to find. And I'm not about to let you slip through my fingers that easily."

He began to walk around the table slowly. Kayla jerked to the side, trying to keep the table between them. But suddenly, he was gone, simply vanished from sight. A moment later, he was back, standing beside her. A scream died in her throat as he reached forward and grabbed her neck.

"I'm afraid that I haven't introduced myself yet. How rude of me. My name is Raphael, and you will bow and serve me."

Kayla struggled, plucking ineffectually at his fingers. She wanted to be let go. She wanted to go home. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed that this was all just a dream. A really, messed-up, drank-way-too-much-last-night type of dream. Her fingertips began to tingle as Raphael squeezed tighter. Kayla's world slowly narrowed down to a single image lodged in her head.

_Mom._

Raphael's hand suddenly closed on empty air. The girl vanished from his grasp. "What!" The room shook with the force of his shout. Instantly, other men and women appeared in the room with him. "Don't just stand there! Find her!"


	2. Chapter 1

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter One**_

_Where Too Many Questions are Asked_

_But Not Enough Answers Are Found_

"Just one girl?" Dean glanced at his brother curiously. "And just how is this one of our things?" He held one of the bottles out to Sam, before flopping himself into the chair across from him.

Sam flipped through a few pages of print-outs, looking for the particular one he'd marked for such a question. One corner of his mouth was twisted up into a grin; it always felt good to be on a case. Especially after the few months they'd been having. Dean waited impatiently. The cap of the bottle cracked open, but he watched Sammy like a hawk as he took a long swig.

"Here it is." Sam neatened up the stack as he scanned through the article looking for the bit he'd underlined. "Okay, so, this girl, Kayla, disappears from her pledge party at Phi Delta Kappa shortly after 10 p.m, a little more than a week ago." Sam glanced up just in time to see Dean's brows raise in interest.

"Sorority girl, _nice_." He quirked a grin, and raised his bottle in a toast to that one. "Okay, so how does this rank on the weird meter?"

"That's the good part. Most of the other girls statements were discounted because they were blitzed. We're talking six sheets to the wind, going here. Except one of them was quoted as saying that she -" Sam cleared his throat, and looked back at the paper, quoting directly from the article. " -was dancing with Kayla in the living room when a bright white light flooded the room, and took her." Sam could feel his grin grow as Dean made an interested noise.

He drained his beer before voicing his thoughts. "I hate bright white lights."

Dean knew what Sam was thinking. Sam knew what Dean was thinking. Neither of them liked the idea much. Sam finally cracked open his own beer, sipping it carefully while watching his brother.

"She's been missing for a week?" Dean asked finally.

"Yup. No sign of her since. Look, I know what you're thinking, but seriously, Dean, we've found more with less." Sam's brow wrinkled as his patented _please-Dean-you-gotta_ look crossed his features. Dean grumbled quietly to himself, and finally stood up from the chair.

"Alright, already, Sasquatch. Where do we start?"

"Texas A&M."

"Texas? I hate Texas about as much as I hate bright white lights." Dean grabbed his jacket from the rack, and turned to point at Sam before he left the house. "Leave a note for Bobby, just in case."

* * *

Dean was in heaven. Or at least, a little slice of his personal version of it. The sorority house was bustling; girls were everywhere. Short ones, tall ones, svelte ones, curvy ones. So many girls that his eyes were trying to be in every direction all at once. It didn't hurt to _look_. And he let himself be all eyes.

He and Sam were standing in the shared common room of the Phi Delta Kappa sorority house. There were probably forty girls that all lived in the one building. It was midafternoon on a Saturday, and still in March, Texas weather was warm. Warm enough that he felt stifled in his monkey-suit, despite the building being tempered by central air. Sam studied the pictures lining the walls, while Dean continued to study the girls who passed by. They were waiting for one girl in particular, the sorority head. She was a senior, a political science major, and had been the last girl to see Kayla Druin before her disappearance.

"I am so sorry to keep you waiting, agents!" Jessica Hartsgrove came running down the stairs in her socks. She was dressed simply in a pair of long canvas basketball shorts, and tank-top. Her hair was drawn back into a tight braid, masking the fact that it was probably a day overdue for being washed. Dean studied her athletic frame while Sam stepped forward automatically.

"Don't worry, it's no problem." He flashed a bit of a smile, complete with dimples before reaching into his jacket pocket. With practiced ease, Dean followed suit, so they produced their badges nearly simultaneously. "We'd like to talk to you about Kayla Druin"

Jessica's face went white. "Oh my God, have you found her? Is she alright?"

A few of the girls moving through the living room paused to glance in their direction. Sam saw concern written on all their faces, not a single one of them gave a guilty start. Sadly, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, we haven't. We were hoping that you might be able to answer a few questions for us."

The girl sunk down into the couch, rubbing her face with both of her hands. "I... already spoke to the cops. I don't.. I don't really remember much."

Sam glanced around for a nearby chair, before finally dropping onto the couch beside her. Dean loved that his brother had his soul back; Sam was so much better at playing the schmooze than he was. He had that stupid puppy-dog look down so well, most people just couldn't resist him. Ms. Jessica Hartsgrove was about to fall prey to that very same look.

"Please, Jessica, sometimes it helps us to hear it fresh, instead of reading it in some report. Whatever you can remember, no matter how strange, or unlikely it sounds, we need to hear it from you." Sam leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. Dean wandered over to the wall where all the pictures were framed, studying the girl's faces there while Sam worked his magic.

"It was pledge night. We're pretty selective about who gets in; there's like, ten tests. Some of its silly, and some of its serious. But it takes most of the school year to complete. Kayla was on the last test with a couple of other girls; we were going to take the last three standing. They were doing tequila shots, one every half hour." Jess shook her head, pulling the end of her braid over her shoulder to fiddle with the tassel on the end. "Kayla had just done her fifth one, and we were talking, right over there." She gestured toward the door leading to the kitchen area. Sam and Dean glanced at one another, and Dean meandered over slowly to the spot. "We were all pretty blitzed; I mean, it was a great night."

"What were you and Kayla talking about?" Dean popped the question from the entrance way, glancing back toward Jess. His fingers had come up clean when he checked for sulfur. It had been worth a shot.

"She was worried that her parents would find out about her drinking." Jess gave a little nervous laugh. "Kay was... always like that. Worried what everyone else thought of her, like she was trying to live up to some great expectation." Her voice thickened, and she closed her eyes. After a few moments, she fanned herself, and heaved an unsteady sigh.

"Take your time, Jessica. I know this has to be difficult for you."

Damn, Sammy was on the spot today. Dean turned away from the two of them, to hide his grin of pride.

"Thank you." She took another deep breath, and exhaled slowly. "Things got... weird after that. I'm not really sure what I believe."

"Try us," Dean almost laughed. "You'd be amazed at what we haven't seen."

Sam shot him a glance: a patented _shut-up-Dean_ glare. Shaking his head slightly, Dean walked slowly over toward the stairs. A sorority sister walked by him, up the stairs, and Dean leaned in to watch her back-side as she climbed. He wasn't hearing what Jess was saying until a certain phrase drifted over to him.

"Did you say the windows rattled, before the bright light came?" Dean was suddenly keyed in. He stood behind the couch, staring at Sam with wide-eyed intensity.

"Yeah, at least, I thought that's what happened. It got so bright I couldn't see, and then just suddenly, it all stopped. Kayla was gone, and most everyone else was passed out..." Jess shrugged slightly. "The cops said the building blew a fuse, and that Kayla probably just ran off."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, and hoped that this wasn't about to be a worst-case scenario. When he opened his eyes, Sam was gesturing up the stairs with his.

"Jess, can we see Kayla's room?" Dean asked the question, causing her to crane her neck around. Nodding in answer, she proceeded to lead them up the stairs. Dean waited until Sam was nearly even with him, before nudging his little brother in the ribs. Sam caught exactly which part of her anatomy he was gesturing to, and reflexively punched Dean in the arm.

Kayla shared her room with another pledge prospective, a girl who was currently in classes. Jess hovered in the doorway, while Sam and Dean poked around at Kayla's belongings. Dean flipped through some printed pages on her desk, while Sam perused her bookshelf. At first nothing jumped out to them as out of the ordinary, most of what was there were school books, textbooks and required reading. But Sam picked up a book from beside her alarm clock.

"Hey," he called Dean's attention to him, and showed him the book cover. _Steadman's Dictionary of Dream Symbols_. Sam started flipping through to see if any entries were marked, while Dean turned back to Jess in the doorway.

"Did Kayla ever complain about weird dreams? Maybe people following her?"

Shaking her head, Jess leaned in the doorway. "Not to me. Not to any of the sisters, that I know of. No..."

* * *

Their next stop was the parents. Dean spent the drive with his head in all the wrong places. Kayla's family had followed her out to Texas according to the sorority sisters. The whole bunch of them uprooted from Savannah and followed her to college. That had to be some kind of special family to be willing to do that. He had uprooted Lisa and Ben to keep them safe, and all it had gotten him was the door closing behind him. Sam left him to his thoughts, engrossed in his cell phone's web browser as he tried to dig up more dirt on the Druins.

By the time they pulled into the driveway of the two-story ranch, Sam had found a complete total of bupkiss. The family was squeaky clean. Sam fixed his tie before he got out of the Impala. Glancing at Dean, he had to ask.

"You ready for this?"

Families were always the worst. They were always the ones hit the hardest. Dean gathered himself, feeling Sam beside him do the same. They squared their shoulders, and began to put on their best FBI straight faces. As they passed the bay window at the front of the house, a dog began barking. As they reached the front door, it was already being pulled open by a young woman with short blonde hair and bright green eyes.

Sam let Dean take the lead on this one, as they reached into their breast pockets to produce the badges. Dean always gave them the best names. Today, they were playing the roles of Townsend and Van Zandt.

"Ms. Amy Druin?" The woman turned from quieting the dog to nod in agreement. "Kayla Druin's mother?"

She closed her eyes and took a careful, deep breath. The dog finally ceased barking, and trotted back into the house. "I... I'm her aunt, actually. Please, tell me you found her."

Dean glanced at Sam. _Aunt_. That was new. And it came with a whole new level of respect for the family. "I'm afraid we haven't. But my partner and I would like to ask you some questions regarding Kayla."

"Sure... sure," Amy opened the door quickly. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank, we're fine." Sam automatically ducked a little when he entered. Being tall and lanky had both benefits and drawbacks. The dog trotted back in from the kitchen, carrying an old sock weighted down with a tennis ball. It was a golden retriever, who looked up at Sam with a hopeful tail-wag. He reluctantly ignored the dog, and followed his brother into to the living room.

Immediately, Dean sat down, while Sam paced the room, looking at pictures. Amy was already talking.

"Anything I can do to help... Kay's been with us since she was ten years old. She's more my daughter than my niece." Amy wrung her hands together as she spoke, looking drawn out and tired.

"What happened to her parents, if I can ask? Our reports listed you and your husband as her mother and father." Dean found his stride quickly, if she started to break down, that's when Sam would step in with the puppy-dog eyes. Glancing over to his brother, he found Sam being followed around by the golden retriever, even while Sam was ignoring the dog carefully.

"Rick and I adopted her a few years ago. She'd been living with us since she was ten..." Amy reached over to an end table, handing Dean the picture that sat there. "Rick's brother, Martin, was Kayla's father. He died in a car accident when she was four; Kayla barely survived it herself. Daphne just.. wasn't the same after Marty was gone. The state took Kayla away and we fought pretty hard to get her back.

"Kay's a good girl. A God-fearing girl. She's never done anything like this before. Never given us any difficulties." It sounded like Amy was about to start bawling, and just on cue, Sam settled himself in beside Dean. Reaching out, he took Amy's hands and gave them a solid squeeze.

"It sounds like you think Kayla ran away," Sam observed gently. "Is that what your local police said?"

Amy sniffled, and reached for a box of tissues. In a quick glance around the room, Dean noticed they seemed to be placed strategically. "Yeah. They say in most cases like this, the missing are runaways. But I don't believe them. I just have this sinking feeling..." She pressed her hand against her stomach, and the golden retriever came to sit dutifully beside her, laying his head upon her knee. In an automatic reaction, Amy reached out to scratch the dog's ears. "Please find my Kayla. We promised her we'd take care of her, and never leave her..."

* * *

"So Amy was about has helpful as a wet noodle." Dean flopped back on the motel bed, sprawled out wide. Sam only glanced up at his dramatics, before going back to his laptop. "As was the sorority house, not that I'm complaining though. I'd interview those girls again in a heartbeat."

"Alright, so we're back to square one." Sam clicked through a few things on his Macbook, frowning at the screen. "We've got a nearly straight-A student, environmental engineering major, getting pledged into a sorority that disappears."

"She's adopted by her aunt and uncle, Daddy Dearest is dead, Mom sounds like she's gone off the deep end." Dean propped himself up on his elbows. "And the only clue we've got is a bright, white light."

Something in Dean's voice made Sam glance up from his computer. Dean was looking at him expectantly. "Are you thinking...?" Sam gestured his eyes upwards.

"Yeah. I'm thinking." Dean sighed, and pushed himself all the way up. "Think we should give it a shot?"

"You don't think he's a little busy?"

"Hell yeah, he's busy. But, y'know, me and him, we've got a _bond._" Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam tried hard to not laugh at his tone. Angels definitely weren't high on either Winchesters list of _Things I Like_, but they both made an exception for Castiel, when he wasn't being a royal, winged dick. Sam clicked his Macbook shut, and gestured for Dean to get on with it.

"Alright, here goes nothing." Dean pressed his palms flat together and closed his eyes. "Oh, Castiel, who art hopefully kicking some archangel ass in Heaven right now, we could use a little feathered advice right about now." He cracked one eye open, and looked around. Sam shook his head, no feathered friend. "See, we're on track of this girl... who's been abducted... by a bright, white light-"

"Did you find her?" Castiel's gravelly voice nearly sent them both rocketing out of their skin.

Dean was on his feet before he'd realized he even had moved. Cass came striding across the room. His mortal vessel looked no worse for wear, but it was often hard to tell. He was forever unshaven, forever hollow-eyed. But the brothers knew the angel riding inside, and he looked _tired._

"Well, no we haven't," Dean shot back. He always got irritated when Castiel forget common courtesy, and didn't so much as give them a _hi boys_. "We wouldn't be calling you if we found her."

A similar expression of irritation flickered over Cass' face like a shadow. "You have to find her. She's hidden from us, from all of us. You two have the best chance of all."

"Easy, Cass, why's she so important?" Sam's brow furrowed. This wasn't making any sense. The data he found couldn't possibly explain anything about the girl. Cass looked up at him, silent for a few moments. Sam met his searching eyes steadily, unable to help wonder just what Cass was thinking, but wasn't saying.

Castiel did what Castiel often did. He answered the question indirectly. "I'm not sure. I won't know until I can meet her. But... Raphael and his followers are looking for her. And we know that can't be good."

Sam and Dean glanced at one another. Then Dean swore under his breath. By taking their eyes off the angel for even a brief second, they'd given Castiel the exact opportunity to take off that he needed. When Dean looked back, he saw exactly what he expected. The angel was gone. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to nip a migraine in the bud before it started.

"So," Sam shrugged lamely. "We know the angels don't have her."

Dean dropped his hand, blinking at his brother. "Which means she escaped."

"So, if you were a nineteen year old girl who just got away from angels, where would you feel safe?"

The brothers looked at each other for a few long minutes, trying to think of all the young women they had known over the years and a common factor for all of them. It was Dean that came up with it first, seeing in his mind's eye Jo and Ellen.

"Mommy."


	3. Chapter 2

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Two**_

_When is a Convent, not a Convent?_

**Savannah, Georgia**

"So a church, and a hospital?" Sam looked up at the two buildings as Dean eased the Impala into a parking spot.

"Can nurses even be hot if they're nuns?" Dean scowled at the church. This case was already ranking high on his too-much-effort list. They had literally nothing to go on yet, no leads, no idea where this girl would even have ended up. Hoping she was here with her mother was a long shot. Dean rubbed his face and heaved a sigh as he twisted the ignition off.

Sam just rolled his eyes and straightened his tie. One good thing about Savannah was there were plenty of abandoned homes around. After crashing in one last night after nearly twenty hours of driving, the two of them felt at least slightly refreshed. Sam still thought he looked rumpled, and while Dean could pull off that look well, it didn't fit as well around his own lanky frame.

"We ready to do this?" Dean asked breaking the silence.

"Are we ever ready for crazy?" Sam pushed the door open, and slid out of the car. Looking over the top of the Impala, he studied the church carefully. "You want the hospital?"

"And let you into a church? Sorry, Sammy, you get the crazy digs this time." Dean flashed him a smile, and straightened his own tie. "Let's get our agent on."

Dean didn't even pause as he sauntered off towards the church. Sam sighed. At least it was a sign of trust, stepping away and letting him work part of the job on his own. They crossed the parking lot in vaguely opposite directions. Both buildings seemed to have been standing since antebellum Savannah, gorgeous edifices of architecture and history. Sam wished, as he often did, that he could have come here on different business. Just inside the foyer was a small reception desk, where a pretty young girl sat waiting expectantly.

Sam found his smile, and leaned slightly on the counter. He didn't want to use his badge unless he absolutely had to, where he could picture Dean flashing his badge around easily inside the church's stone edifice. After a few moments, he had the receptionist's attention, and was asking to see Mrs. Daphne Druin.

She punched a few things into her computer and frowned thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it says here, Mrs. Druin isn't allowed visitors outside the family members." She raised her eyes to him. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Hmmm," Sam reached slowly into his breast pocket, pulling out his FBI fold. "I'm really sorry, but you're going to have to let me see Daphne Druin."

She drew breath to protest before looking up, but once she caught sight of the badge, she hesitated. Instead of answering him right away, she grabbed the phone, and punched a few quick numbers into it. Her tone was practiced low, and Sam couldn't hear what she was saying. When she returned the phone to the cradle, she held up a few fingers.

"One moment please."

Scrawling down a few things on a piece of paper, she held it up to him. As he took it, she caught his hand. Something in her eyes caused him to pause, to look back at her, and really take in her expression. She was panicked. A deep furrow appeared between his brows, and he looked down at the note in his hand.

_Rm 212. Be Careful_.

By the time he looked back up; her attention was back on the computer, and her fingers where flying across the keyboard. Sam wondered just how badly Dean's paranoia was rubbing off on him. Usually, Sam advocated trusting others, while Dean strictly trusted his own instincts. Turning away from the reception desk, he looked around until he spotted a sign for the elevators. On his way down the hall, he spotted a door advocating for stairs. On a whim, he shirked the automated path for the manual one, and pushed his way through the door.

It was obviously a path that was not often used. He smelled only musty concrete, and the light on the first floor landing was burnt out. When he finally stood in front of the second floor door, he thought he understood why a mental hospital would have a receptionist that warned visitors to be careful. The sounds of distress filtering through the heavy fire-door were enough to cause gooseflesh raise along his arms. He braced himself for the worst, before pushing the door open.

Instantly, the moaning cries and muffled wailing faded away into the pristine silence of a hospital. Thoroughly bewildered, Sam lingered as the door swung shut behind him with a hydraulic hiss. The noise shook him from his stupor, and after looking both ways down the white hall, he chocked it up to his over-active imagination. Picking a direction, he started reading off room numbers.

After about twenty feet, he passed a nurse's station. The nurses wore the traditional scrubs, some brightly colored, others with cute cartoon creatures on them, they all had one thing in common: their hair was covered by the black and white of a nun's habit. After a few moments, the three of them turned to regard Sam questioningly.

For a brief moment, he thought he saw recognition flicker in one of their gazes. Nervous for a moment, Sam cleared his throat, and produced his badge, trusting his reflex to work magic. "Can any of you direct me to room two-twelve?"

"Certainly," the youngest of the bunch chimed brightly. "Just down that hall, to the left. You can't miss it!"

Something was wrong with the tableau before him, but Sam just couldn't quite put his finger on it. Flashing them a smile of thanks, he headed down the indicated hallway. After a few steps, he realized what they'd meant. Paintings covered the walls, most of them framed, but some of them simply tacked up with thumbpins, or taped directly to the mouldings. Each and every one of them depicted the same, winged man. An angel. And in the corner of each painting was scrawled a single Enochian sigil. He recognized them from the lessons that Castiel had put them both through, as sigils of protection. Someone was intent on keeping angels out of the hospital.

Sensing eyes on him, Sam glanced backwards, and spotted one of the three nurses standing at the entrance to the hall, as though she were waiting for something. After a moment, she turned away and walked out of view. _Creepy_. Dean needed to know about this. Digging in his pocket for his Blackberry, Sam kept heading down the hall.

There was a single door at the end, mostly steel like the other doors in the hospital. But this one had a small glass window, in which hung a crucifix. With his phone in one hand, he scrolled through the numbers until he pulled up the entry for his brother. Just as he was about to hit send, the phone began to buzz in his fingers.

Dean was calling him.

"I was just abo-"

"Sammy, there is something seriously wrong here!" Dean sounded out of breath, like he'd run a marathon recently.

Sam stopped short, standing just before the doorway to Room 212. "Huh?" he asked numbly. Dean had that feeling too? Sam winced, and looked back down the hallway once more. Instead of one nurse, there were all three.

"The hospital's on lockdown. I can't get in." Dean growled on the other end of the phone. There was a huff, and a bang, presumably meaning that Dean had tried to knock a door in. "Church'd be better as a mausoleum."

Sam backed slowly until he felt the wall behind him. At least one side of him was protected. "You mean? Dead?" Dean didn't hear him, as he was beating away again at the doors. A string of curses filtered over the phone towards Sam. Dropping the phone from his ear, he looked back up at the gathered nurses.

The youngest of them, the one with the cheerful voice, smiled maliciously, and in doing so, her eyes flicked completely black. Sam's stomach dropped out from beneath him. What were the chances that all of this was merely coincidental? If he'd ever learned one thing, it was that nothing was coincidence. Sam was already start to take stock of his situation, half listening to the sounds of Dean trying to beat down a door, any door, when the door to room 212 began to open.

Swearing under his breath, Sam tried to maneuver so he could watch the door, as well as the trio of demons at the end of the hall. Instead of a threat, he found a small piece of paper being waved at him. Through the crack in the door, he could spot greenish eyes, and half of a crooked smile.

"Martin? Martin, be a dear and put this on the door?" Her voice was shaky, and reedy, as she waved the paper again.

Sam, seeing no other course to take, accepted the paper, and unfolded it. There was already a small piece of tape attached to the top, so all he had to do was tack it to the door. With a slap, he did just that; only to hear a collective hiss go up from the demon. Looking at the sigil he just pasted to the door, he wondered just what it meant. Like the ones scrawled on the paintings, this one was Enochian as well. Just as Sam was about to put the phone back to his ear, the door swung open wide enough for the woman within to grab Sam's arm, and yank him inside.

"Martin! Seriously, what are you doing fooling around out there, when there's so much to do in here!" Daphne Druin was short and willowy. If Sam hadn't known she had a nineteen-year-old daughter, he would have easily put her barely into her thirties. But recalling his research, Daphne would be nearly 46 by now.

"SAMMY?" His phone crackled with the strength of Dean's shout, and Sam jumped a mile.

"Easy, I'm okay. I'm with Mrs. Druin." Sam stared at the woman as she dusted off her apron. The room was full of canvases, some set up on easels, while others were just lying helter skelter around the perimeter. He realized that he was standing in a small suite, with doors leading to other rooms, all closed at the moment. "Keep trying to find a way in, Dean, there's at least three demons in here... maybe more. But... I-"

Daphne began to cluck at him, waving her paint-marked apron like a sheet. "You're not supposed to run off, Martin; you said yourself it's dangerous out there! Just think of what would happen to Kay if you got hurt!"

Sam stumbled out a good-luck to Dean, before shutting out the conversation. There was just too much going on. "Kayla's here?" If she thought he was her deceased husband, maybe he could play along and get some answers. "Can I see her?"

"Of course Kay's here, silly goose!" Daphne laughed, a warm inviting sound. She moved through the room to a small bassinet in the corner. Sam palmed his face as she lifted a small, dark-haired doll out from the crib. "See?" Daphne rocked and cooed at the doll, carrying it just like a real baby. She bounced the baby doll in her arms as she walked back to Sam, smiling with such a relaxed beauty. Sam had no doubt that she was completely off her rocker, trapped in a world of her own creating.

If roles had been reversed, and it had been Dad that died, would Mom have gone this same way? Sam found himself wondering and ended up shaking his head. Not with what he knew now, he didn't believe that she would. Mary Winchester had been made of stronger stuff than either brother had ever completely understood. Sam awkwardly accepted the offered doll, trying to settle it comfortably into the crook of his arm, just as she had been carrying it.

Daphne then rested her head against his arm, gazing lovingly down at the porcelain face in his arms. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Instead of answering aloud, Sam simply nodded, his eyes roving over the room itself. A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he turned just in time to see one of the side doors finish closing. They weren't alone in the suite. Biting his lip, Sam pressed the doll back into Daphne's arms.

"Look, Daphne... honey," he stumbled over treating her like his wife, or at least, his girlfriend. But he had to play along. "There are people outside that want to hurt us, they want to hurt Kayla. Is there anyone else in here that can help us out?"

Something hard flickered across Daphne's features, and she shifted her grip on the Kayla doll, leaning it up against one shoulder. Pressing the palm of her free hand flat against the door, she closed her eyes, and appeared to be trying to remember something. After a few moments, she found her words, and began to intone them quietly. Sam took a step backwards as he recognized the Enochian language. As he fought to put two and two together in his brain, something struck the back of his head.

Staggering from the blow, Sam spun. He reacted on instinct, raising a hand to catch the second blow before it could land. His other hand came up quick to grab the elbow attached to the arm, and he stepped through, twisting hard and pulling upwards. A sudden yelp of pain brought him to a halt just short of plowing his attacker into the floor. He held tight though, unwilling to release the stranger just yet.

Except, things where still going on around him. He saw a bright white light spread from where Daphne's hand touched the door, and he saw how it spread out through the hallway. Muffled screams of pain and despair rose up at the light's brightest moment. Daphne stumbled and nearly dropped her baby doll. The figure in Sam's grip lurched and struggled for a moment.

"Mom!"

"Mom?" Sam let go suddenly, and the figure before him ran across the room. Kayla was as slender as her mother, but slightly taller. Sam's heart broke as Daphne straightened herself, completely ignoring her own daughter in favor of him, the stranger in the room.

"See, Martin, you taught me well. I got rid of them, like I do every time they try to take our miracle away from us..."

Sam drew a breath, and looked directly at Kayla. She glared in response, before turning completely away. "Kayla," he tried to stall any action she would take, taking a step toward her with his hands palm up and open. "Please, I need to talk to you..."

* * *

Daphne began to ignore them once Dean arrived. It wasn't hard to find a spot that was quiet; after all the suite had a fully equipped kitchen. In his hands, Dean had the sigil Daphne had drawn for the door. Sam was seated at the table, while Kayla had taken up a perch on the counter top. Now that he had time to look at her, Sam decided that she was classically pretty. The photograph they had of her did nothing for the real color of her eyes: a warm, vibrant green that reminded him of the summer-time green of trees.

"If your friend really wants to talk to me, he can come here," she was stating. Her hands were folded in her lap. "Even if Mom completely ignores me, at least I can be here."

Dean made a noise, and crumpled the paper holding the sigil. "That's just it, kid. He can't come here. All those signs, all those paintings in the hallway, they're keeping him away from here. We have to take you to him; there's no other way."

"Look, I feel safe here. I'm not leaving." Kayla hopped down from the counter, and straightened her tee-shirt. It was emblazoned with a few shamrocks, and what looked like a leprechaun getting ready to box an unseen opponent. As she turned away from the two of them, the back read: _Let's Get Ready to Stumble._

Dean felt his appreciation of her sense of humor go up a notch, even as Sammy got up from his seat and crossed to her. "It's not safe for you here, or pretty much anywhere else for that matter. If you haven't figured it out already, there are people out there looking for you. Bad guys. Dangerous guys."

She rounded on him. "Oh, like you two? You're looking for me, doesn't that make you fall into your own categories? You nearly dislocated my shoulder! And, for that matter, what makes you so special that my _mother_ finds room for you in her little fantasy world?"

"Woah, calm down Kayla," Dean stepped forward too, hemming the girl in so she couldn't bolt. "We're just interested in protecting you."

She backed up as they both got closer. "Everything was fine here until you showed up. I was safe." She sounded desperate. Closing her eyes, she took a long, deep breath. As she began to exhale, Sam glanced at his brother. As soon as he glanced back, the college girl with the bright green eyes had vanished into thin air.

Dean was slack-jawed with shock. Sam blinked a few times and looked back at Dean again.

"What just happened?" he asked softly.

"She... disappeared on us..." Dean confirmed what Sam feared. "We had her! How the Hell did that just happen?" Dean spun on his heel, and kicked the nearest chair. It fell over with a clatter, but didn't make him feel any better.

"Martin?" Daphne's reedy voice called from the living space, and after a few moments, she appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. Once more, she carried the Kayla doll. "Why don't you take Kayla to the beach again? She always loved it there..."

Sam mutely accepted the doll and glanced at Dean. Looking back down at the creepy porcelain thing, he noticed what it was wearing: A cute, pink striped onesie from Myrtle Beach, Virginia.


	4. Chapter 3

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Three**_

_This isn't Baywatch..._

Castiel wasn't sure what he was following. If he were pressed to explain it, he would have called it an 'energy signature.' It was the same sense that allowed him to easily identify the angels residing in their vessels. But this one was different, stranger than anything he'd ever come across before, and his memory reached back for many millennium. So many things were going on at once. He felt the near constant buzz of battle going on in the back of his mind. His fellow angels were a level of background noise that he devoted a part of his attention to. If he was needed, and called to battle, his investigation would be cut short, and he would be left woefully without answers.

He hated the uncertainty of not knowing.

Setting himself down at in an alleyway, he fixed his jacket unconsciously. Cass had become so comfortable in his vessel, due to the many crazy events of the past two years, that at times, if he didn't overthink himself, and he didn't open his mouth, he passed for a better human than some humans. Tonight felt like it could be one of those nights, where he simply could blend in with his surroundings. Stepping out of the alleyway, he emerged into the quiet business of the street.

The boardwalk, actually. The quiet whisper of the ocean tickled his ears, and for a moment, he allowed himself the simple pleasure of listening. Of all of Father's Creation, he loved the water. So mutable, so changeable, yet strong enough to carve through stone over time. With a shake, he brought himself away from the sound. He had to concentrate. The feeling was faint, really a nagging tickle at the back of his throat.

But once he focused on it, the sense became stronger. He'd first caught wind of it outside the church where Dean had called him yesterday. Now that he was here, where it was fresher, cleaner, he could begin to identify traits of it. It smelled of books, of old tomes, and the dark dusty recesses of libraries, but it felt like the vibrant life force of a forest in spring, frenetic with unfocused, untamed energy. Castiel rubbed his face, and stepped off of the boardwalk.

Even though the traffic streaked by, he calmly crossed the street to the beach without pause. He never worried that a car wouldn't stop fast enough, or that he couldn't simply step out of the way in time. A few angry motorists blew horns at him; a few gave him Dean's favorite one-fingered salute. But none of that phased or bothered him in the least. The source of the sense was across the street, by the ocean.

Stepping onto the sand, he felt the worth shift for a moment, the balance of power tipping just enough to herald the arrival of other angels. They too could follow the sense if he could. Scanning the darkening beach, he spotted his wayward brothers, advancing down the wet sand. He recognized them easily: Vel, Dracon, and Irel. All three of them where known associates of Raphael.

Dracon was far more like a bloodhound than either an angel or human. He scanned the beach steadily with the same intensity that Castiel was using. Then deliberately turning his fellows toward a pier that stuck out over the ocean, he began to move. Cass followed them on a parallel path through the softer sand. His dress shoes weren't helpful in moving quickly, but if he took flight, the other angels would surely notice him.

The darkness of night seemed to close in closer around him. A few other late beachgoers were abandoning their places in favor of getting out of the pressing darkness. That was Dracon again, drawing the darkness in around him. His was the sixth hour of night, the time just beyond the witching hour. Castiel hurried, letting the silvered blade of his station slide easily from his sleeve into his hand. If Dracon was beginning to mask their presence, their quarry was near.

He spotted her just as Raphael's loyalists did, sitting curled up beside a pier support post. She was huddled with her arms wrapped around her knees, unaware of the approach of the host of Heaven. Cass had no choice. It was time to take a chance. In a moment's thought, he had crossed the distance between them, and appeared at the girl's side. Beside her, the aura was nearly overwhelming. So close it was like getting a face full of acrid smoke, pungent with fear and confusion.

"Stay down," he ordered, expecting her to simply obey. He gave his complete attention to the attacking angels, concentrating first on Dracon. Three against one weren't entirely fair odds, but then again, Cass' garrison had been one of the best trained before the civil war.

Vel lunged first, opening with an easily avoided sweeping arc. Vel was a thinker, a philosopher, not a warrior. Before the other two could react, Castiel had spun within Vel's guard, and plunged his blade hard into the hollow where his neck met his shoulder. Vel stared, open-mouthed, as the brilliance of his Grace was extinguished, flashing brightly behind his eyes. Castiel barely registered the muffled scream from the girl; instead he took two steps back. Blocking Irel's strike with his own weapon, he reached out with his free hand to catch Dracon's sleeve, holding him back just long enough that the girl scrambled for the ocean.

She was splashing into the water as Dracon spun away from her, intent on bringing his weapon down into Castiel's head. Instead, Cass made himself small, dropping his upraised arm, hunching his shoulders forward and stepping backwards, beneath Dracon's strike. The bloodhound's strike continued unchecked, and plunged deep into Irel's chest.

Cass didn't stop moving; as he straightened, he twisted left to dispatch Dracon. But the angel had vanished, tucking tail and flying. Turning back and forth in the sand, Castiel looked around the girl, but she too had disappeared. The clean, salty smell of the ocean masked the aura he had once felt, leaving him only with a dead end trail, and two bodies.

* * *

Dean didn't know what to think anymore. On one hand, Kayla was a girl in need of a friend, or at least some damned answers. But on the other hand, he didn't know what she was. If she was a monster in disguise, or if she was a monster who never got to grow up like a normal monster, or if she was just an unfortunate child of circumstance. It wasn't the first time he'd driving with his head full of questions and no way to get any answers. Castiel was back to ignoring him. Or maybe he was too busy to answer at the moment. Or, maybe, worse yet, Cass didn't have any answers.

Sam was curled against the door, grabbing a catnap before they arrived at Myrtle Beach. It was only a few hours drive up the coast, especially with Lead-foot Larry driving. The whole situation reeked. Sam said the girl's mom spouted Enochian just before the light, and the doors unlocking. Everyone in the hospital was unconscious, but alive, unlike those who where trapped in the church. It wasn't like the girl's mom was an angel in disguise, even those had a bit of a presence that the brothers were just learning to identify.

Dean hit the steering wheel with his palm, then immediately apologized to his car, smoothing his hand over the offended spot. This was going to be a long day if they couldn't get a hold of Cass. Just knowing to look at the beach wasn't enough. He prayed they wouldn't be too late. Angels and demons both were after Kayla for some reason, but she was running away from the two humans who had the best chance of helping her out.

Dean was faced with the problem of getting her to listen to them. _Stupid, confusing, big fat gray areas_. He griped silently to himself as he turned the Impala onto Ocean Boulevard. He kept to the speed limit here, scanning the boardwalk for any sign of a cheap motel. Myrtle Beach had grown up considerably since his youth, and most of the hotels were multi-story high-rise complexes.

"Sammy." Dean reached over and gave his brother's shoulder a push. "Rise and shine, sleepy head. We're here."

Sam rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He woke up with no grogginess, just suddenly alert to his surroundings. Looking around, Sam spotted the sunrise over the ocean and couldn't help but smile. The sky was painted with purple and pink hues, and knowing Dean, he hadn't stopped to notice it. But because Dean was busy looking at the businesses on the boardwalk, he'd also missed the gathering of early morning joggers as well.

"Dean." Sam grabbed at his brothers arm, and pointed at the circle. "What do you think it is?"

The Impala eased to a stop while Dean looked. For a moment, the group parted and he caught sight of yellow tape, uniformed officers, and a CSU jacket. "Drowned body? Could be anything?" He frowned, crossing his arms over the steering wheel and watching the gathering closely.

"Or it's angels."

"Dammit Cass!" Dean practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of the angel's voice behind him. Cass had once again simply appeared in his backseat. Sam laughed nervously, instead of voicing his own surprise, but he waited for his heart rate to come back down before he made any attempt to talk.

"What do you mean 'it's angels'?" he finally manged to ask.

Castiel looked away, out the window, anywhere except at the brothers. "I stopped three of Raphael's followers from taking the girl last night."

"Great!" Dean twisted in his seat, finally able to find something to grin about. "Where's Kayla now?" Cass' brow wrinkled as he flicked his gaze back to Dean. "Crap, Cass, don't tell me you lost her again!"

"Not telling you won't make it any different," Cass stated. Abruptly, he raised his eyes to the sky, shifting his focus for a single split second. "I have to go."

Dean opened his mouth, in the span of time it took Castiel to vanish from the car once more. Shooting Sam a look, he tried to convey just how pissed off he was at the moment. Sam was great at understanding, and understating. Simply shrugging, he pushed his squeaky door open. After a moment of fuming, Dean followed suit, but not before grabbing a pistol from the glovebox.

"Let's at least join the rubberneckers..." Sam offered lamely. Together they made their way through the soft sand to the high tide markers, where everything was situated. They drew close the police line, but never stepped beyond it. Today they were just posing as regular people, instead of FBI agents. They moved around the outskirts of the circle, catching enough glimpses inside to see the blurred ash outline of wings spread out upon the sand.

Dean watched the police, across the circle as they interviewed a poor guy in runner's shorts who'd obviously been the first one to find the two vessels. Sam scanned the crowd, wondering how many of these people were on vacation, and how many of them simply worked or lived on the beach. Sam was nearly getting ready to give up on the crowd of people when he spotted a familiar face among them.

Kayla's eyes were vibrant green. Framed by long dark lashes, they widened in recognition as his gaze locked down upon hers. She was wise though, she didn't break and run like many spooked animals would. She began to back away from the circle, and eased away from the crowd while Sam groped blindly for his brother's arm.

Dean immediately saw what Sammy did, as Kayla turned away from them and began to walk back toward the street and boardwalk. Nodding, the brothers agreed that they'd be following her. Just as seamlessly as they had joined the crowd, they stepped away and began to tail after Kayla.

"I thought Cass said he lost her," Dean observed as they watched her cross the street.

"She seems to be pretty good at ditching." Sam countered. Pointing across the street, he watched her duck into an alley. "I wonder why she just doesn't pull that disappearing act."

Dean hurried, breaking into a half-jog, while Sam just lengthened his stride to keep up. Before ducking into the alleyway, Dean hiked up the back of his jacket, and freed the small Beretta from his waistband. Sam figured that was unnecessary, but he wouldn't grudge his brother the illusion of safety. As they stepped into the alley, Dean took lead, holding the pistol ready, but pointed at the ground before him.

Sam checked around the back of a dumpster. Shaking his head, they kept creeping forward. There wasn't much cover in the alley, nor was there an exit. None of the doors had handles on the outside, so they both figured it was only a matter of time before they caught her. A few more steps, and she was like a quail burst from cover.

Sam shouted her name as Kayla stumbled. She shot a look back at them, frantic and terrified, before she tried a last ditch effort to escape. Jumping from where she was standing, her fingertips barely grazed the bottom of the fire escape ladder. She hit the ground hard and unsteadily. Dean stowed the gun while Sam rushed forward to stop her second attempt. Getting his arms wrapped around her, he kept her from jumping up a second time, but she struggled, kicking at his legs, trying to stomp on his feet.

"Kayla, we're here to help you!" Sam kept his face clear of her head, worried that she might try smash his nose. "You've got to trust us!"

Dean came up in front of her, and she used Sam's arms to support her body as she lashed out at Dean with her sneakers. He easily batted her legs away, and shook his head.

"It's over, kiddo." Something sad in his voice made her pause for a moment. She seemed to be looking right through him, with that vibrant, neon stare. "You can stop running now."

What did he expect? Certain not what happened. Instead of ranting at him, struggling more, or even swearing in his face, she coughed once, shuddered violently, and fell completely limp in Sam's grip.

* * *

The motel decor was all flowers. The sheets had lilies, the curtains were roses, even a vase painted with irises held a bunch of peonies. Dean thought he was going to throw up from the amount of cute and pretty held in this place. But it was cheap, and it wasn't Myrtle Beach, and it was, temporarily, a place for them to gather their wits and figure out what to do next.

Sam lay Kayla out on the bed, and then began to work to get her at least under the covers. She was shivering. Salt dried into her hair had flaked off and left a sparkling sheen across Sam's jacket. Best they could figure, she'd taken an unwarranted dip into the freezing Atlantic. Hypothermia had probably messed with her head enough that she couldn't pop out like before.

All they had to do was figure out how to keep her around when she did wake up. Dean had already retreated into the bathroom to wash his face, leaving Sam to take care of the girl. He never wanted to see that expression of terror on any nineteen-year old girl's face, ever again. It was almost like she thought they were the monsters. He took the time to arrange her dark hair in a fan on the pillow, doing his best to untangle the worst of it with his fingers.

As Dean came back into the main room, Sam folded his hands into his lap. "So what now?" He kept his voice barely a whisper, worried that any extra noise would wake her up.

"Now we call Cass. Let him know we have her." Dean nodded slightly. "He's standing right behind me, isn't he?"

Sam couldn't help but laugh, the grin he'd been unsuccessfully keeping hidden breaking out. Typical Cass. And even more like Castiel, he didn't speak as he swept past Dean and came to stand at the bedside. Sam squashed the urge to get up and move away, knowing that was just Cass' intensity. Focusing hard, Cass seemingly ignored the both of them in favor of the mystery girl in the bed. Glancing up at Sam, Cass seemed to ask permission silently.

That's when Sam got up, and headed over to stand beside Dean. With both of them watching, Cass rested the first two fingers of his right hand against Kayla's forehead, and closed his eyes. Sam shifted his weight as the tension in the room skyrocketed. Finally, Cass turned back to them completely, letting his hands hang limp at his sides.

"She should sleep until tomorrow night." He explained. "We need to move her. Somewhere safe. Somewhere Raphael's agents can't find her."

Dean grumbled. "And where exactly would that be? Angels find her at college, then at a friggin' beach. Demons found her at a church hospital. Oh, and speaking of demons, just why are _they_ after her?"

"She's not a cambion," Sam rationalized. "No reality warping; no mega-powers. She just pops around."

"Translocation." Castiel supplied. "It's called translocation. I have to consult with some others. It's the only way I'm going to get answers. Take her somewhere safe."

And with that, he was gone once more. Dean swore under his breath and look at Sam with a heavy sigh.

Sam's brow wrinkled in distress. Cass was certainly driving them further and further up the wall of sanity with his disappearing act. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"What's that, Brain? We shoulda taken over the world already." Dean rolled his eyes, and flopped down into a chair.

"Bobby's, Dean. We need to take her to Bobby's."


	5. Chapter 4

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Four**_

_We Meant to Do That._

Dean just needed a few hours of catnap time. He couldn't drive without sleep, and he certainly couldn't pull off a twenty-four hour trip from Virginia to South Dakota with how frazzled his brain felt. Sam didn't begrudge him that rest. It was important that they stay safe. Sleeping was part of that safety. An overtired hunter made stupid mistakes, cost others their lives. Sam offered to keep watch, just in case. Angels and demons alike had it out for Kayla.

He kept himself occupied by doing more research. Digging around in old police files, he found the reports of the accident that had claimed the life of her father. It had happened during Tropical Storm Josephine, when a tree apparently came down in front of Martin's car. Four year old Kayla had been strapped in her car seat in the back, and had miraculously survived the crash with minor lacerations to her back. Martin apparently hadn't been so lucky. The words 'grisly' and 'gruesome' kept coming up in the article, but with no clear description or picture of what happened, Sam's imagination took over.

He saved the article to his Mac and glanced around the room to check on the others. Dean was still sprawled out on his stomach, with one pillow pulled over his head to block out the light. He was still out cold, and would be until Sam said his name directly. It was a great knack they'd both picked up over the years hunting. But Kayla. Half of the covers had been thrown back, and her arm lay over her eyes now. Sam hoped that she was just restlessly turning; Cass had thrown her into a deep sleep after all. Hadn't he?

He had one of those nagging suspicions. The sort of thing that made him often wonder if the demon-blood was still working through his veins. If the forces of Heaven and Hell wanted her, shouldn't she be stronger? He rose and walked over to the bedside, intent on fixing the blankets for her. If she were still hypothermic, she needed the warmth the layers of blankets would provide her. But as he flipped them up and over her, her eyes flew open.

Sam heard her drawing a breath, and knew she would be gearing up to scream, so he clamped a hand down over her mouth, stifling it. She struggled to get her hands free of the blankets and finally managed to grab his arm. Fighting against him, she kicked at the blankets until her legs were free, and then tried to kick him in the stomach.

Sam kept trying to shush her, not wanting to hurt her. He kept casting glances over at Dean, waiting for his brother to wake up to the sounds of the scuffle. Dean just burrowed his face deeper into the mattress and ignored them. Finally, Sam got fed up, and leaned hard onto Kayla's face and chest. Her eyes went wide as she sunk down into the mattress, her air supply cut off by Sam's huge hand.

"Look," he whispered urgently. "You need to calm the hell down, so we can talk like rational, civilized people. No screaming. No shouting. And no waking up my brother, got it?"

Fear tempered with understanding greeted him. She couldn't nod or respond or anything while he held her down. Easing back, shifting his hand away from her nose, he listened to the huge breath she took. After a few moments, her breathing settled down a little, and he let up on her further. Pausing before he took his hand away, he made sure she understood him one last time. Finally, he straightened completely, releasing her.

Kayla was up out of the bed in an instant, backing herself into a corner as far from Sam as she could possibly get. She seemed to do a bodily check, tugging her still damp shirt down against her skin. Finally, she straightened a little.

"Wha-" she started speaking loudly, but a stern look from Sam dropped her voice to a whisper. "What do you want with me? Why do you keep following me?"

"We're trying to keep you safe," Sam countered. He lowered himself until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her. "You're making it hard, but we're used to that. I'm telling you the truth, Kayla. We don't want you to get hurt."

Her eyes flicked toward Dean on the other bed. She unleashed a shaky breath and rake a hand through her salt-crusted hair. Her green eyes rolled around the room, as though searching for a method of escape. Sam sat between her and the door, and he looked fast. He also looked concerned, like he expected her to disappear at any second. She took a deep breath and banked on doing just that. Closing her eyes, she pictured her room back at her aunt and uncle's house in Texas.

"Kayla," Sam's voice held a plea, causing her to crack one eye open at him. "Don't. We can't help you if you pop out on us. We can't figure out why these people are after you if you're not here to help us. You're the key to all of this, and if you keep running, they will catch you. I don't know what happens after that."

Kayla opened her other eye. Again, she shot a glance at Dean, sleeping soundly not ten feet from her. They had a snowball's chance in hell of keeping her safe. "On one condition," she made him promise. "You tell me exactly what's going on."

"We will." Sam obliged her. "Once we figure it out, you'll be the first to know."

* * *

Dean had been at least somewhat agreeable when Sam woke him. Confused as all hell, that the girl was awake and moving after Cass had promised she'd stay out. But his own stomach was in-line with hers, and she had an appetite that could easily put Dean to shame. She had even gone ahead and donated some cash for the meal, in the form of a few damp and salty ten dollar bills. Two burgers later, she beat Dean to the question of finishing off Sam's half-eaten meal.

As Sam was pushing over the wrapper, and exchanging a bemused glance with his brother, Kayla's eyes widened suddenly. She began to move before either brother understood completely what was going on. Knocking her chair over backwards, she fell trying to back away, pointing behind them.

"Why haven't you left yet?" Castiel demanded from behind Dean. "Why is she awake?"

"Easy, there, Cass," Dean got out of his chair to block the angel from advancing further. "Oh..." Angels, plural he realized, as Balthazar lurked behind Cass sourly.

"Kayla, he's a friend of ours," Sam dropped to his knees beside her, trying to help her back up.

She made motions with her hands, that looked to Sam like stabbings. "But he-" Then she closed her fists, and opened them up again like explosions. "And they-" Her back finally found a wall, and with Sam's help she got back to her feet. "And I really, _really _don't want to be here right now."

"I'm trying to protect you." Castiel ignored Dean, pushing past him. "Those angels were trying to collect you for some reason. We need to know why."

Letting Cass by was the easy part, Dean kept vigil over what Balthazar was doing. But for the moment, he was simply observing, watching with the strange sense of detachment that the angels all seemed to pull off. Except for Cass. Cass was too vested in humanity to be so cold all of the time.

Sam put himself between the angel and the girl, making sure Cass didn't get too close. "Cass," Sam's voice held a note of warning. "You're scaring her. Maybe you should just... back off for a minute."

"We should scare her." Balthazar chose the moment to speak up. He stepped forward into Dean's personal space, and then raised a single brow waiting for the human to move. Dean stepped aside, but not before glowering his best at the angel. Unmoved, Balthazar just rolled his eyes at the posturing, and stood beside Castiel. "It's what we do to her kind."

His eyes focused on Kayla with such intensity that she instinctively stepped behind Sam. He felt her fingers grab his arm for support, squeezing hard. Sam saw the sudden questioning look Cass threw at his former brother, but he wondered why no words were exchanged between them.

"Look, Cass," Balthazar's tone took on pity, even as he fixed his gaze on the girl behind Sam. "I'm only going to say this once... don't get involved with that abject monstrosity." The rogue angel sighed, and turned to wave his fingers at Dean. "Cheerio, chaps. Don't say you weren't warned."

In a blink he was gone. Castiel started to speak, but halted himself, turning to glance from Sam to Dean quickly. "Get her somewhere safe. I'll find answers." Before his voice had even faded away, he vanished as well. Sam and Dean stared at each other, unsure of what just went down. In the cold silence that followed, Kayla started to cry, hard, wracking sobs.

The sound kicked both of them into action. Dean swept the trash off the table into the can, and grabbed the duffel bags. They'd lingered long enough. Castiel was right about that. Dean would pack the car while Sam dealt with the crying girl. Sam was just better at that all around. His own brain was spinning. For one, Balthazar knew what was going on; or at least part of it. Cass was in the dark, an unusual quality for his own personal angel. And the girl didn't have the foggiest idea of what was revolving around her.

He unlocked the trunk and opened the special compartment. He was going to keep a bottle of the holy oil ready just in case they had a run in with Raphael or one of his cronies. Driving with shotguns in the front seat would be dangerous, but he figured it might be worth the risk. Rock salt rounds would do wonders if they ran into more demons. Getting her to Bobby's was suddenly a priority. The panic room would be ideal to keep her safe from both sets of legions out to get her.

As he closed the trunk, and circled around to the driver's side, the motel room door opened briefly to reveal Sam and Kayla. She was wrapped up in his jacket, her eyes red rimmed and puffy. But the set of her jaw was resolute, and something in her neon green eyes was hard as stone. Dean admired the spunk she was showing. A lesser person would have probably wilted at seeing two angels, but then again, a lesser person couldn't pop from Savannah, Georgia, to Myrtle Beach, Virginia in less than a second. He fed the shotguns through the window into the front seat, and straightened while Sam got Kayla settled into the back.

Casting a questioning look at Sam, he relied on the miracle of brotherly communication to get his question across. _She gonna hold up?_

Sam's shrug and scowl spoke just as clearly back to him. _Your guess is as good as mine._

* * *

"We're being followed," Kayla's voice was tiny from the back seat.

"We know." Sam twisted slightly in the seat, first glancing at Kayla, then quickly back to the headlights that tailed them. They're good, he thought, keeping far back and taking parallel streets. The Impala hadn't even made it out of Myrtle Beach yet, the highway turn-off they needed was still a good thirty miles away. The high-rise party city was beginning to give way to the smaller, yet no less expensive private homes lining the beach.

Kayla huddled down a little further into Sam's jacket, suppressing a shiver and holding back any other words she might have. Dean's eyes jumped from the road to his rear view every thirty seconds or so, keeping tabs on the tail and trying to plot his next move. Beside him, Sam was already calling up a map of the area onto his Blackberry.

"Take this right, then your third left." Sam instructed, pointing. Dean followed directions quickly, checking his rearview to make sure they were biting.

"What do you think? Ups or downs?" Dean's grin quirked slightly. Kayla hadn't asked what Castiel and Balthazar were yet, so he was betting dollars that she was still in the dark about the whole deal. Sam cast him a glance.

"Probably ang- ups." Sam countered. "They know she's here, and Cass already fended them off once."

"Yeah, and it's our fault for not getting her gone sooner."

Dean almost growled under his breath as he found the third left Sam had mentioned. It was a long, dead end alleyway, so Dean pulled all the way to the front. Before Sam got out, he turned around in his seat. Kayla's green eyes were huge, brimming with questions. Patting her knee gently, he sighed.

"We'll try to answer anything you want to know on the way to Bobby's, okay? But right now, you need to keep your head down, and stay out of sight." Sam waited until she had curled up on her side, laying across the back seat of the Impala before he got out to join his brother.

Dean already had the banishing sigil drawn on the trunk. Blood still dripped down his fingers but in classic Winchester fashion, he completely ignored the self-inflicted wound for the greater good. Lifting the trunk, Dean leaned over like he was rummaging around, looking for something. They were setting up whatever was in that car. The sigil only worked if the angels were nearby. No car drove by them, nothing happened for a few long minutes. Dean looked up from the trunk, looking around the alleyway.

"Maybe we lost 'em?" he sounded hopeful. Tangling with angels wasn't high on his To Do list.

"Maybe it's not angels," Sam provided. "I mean, what angel do we know that drives a car when they want to go somewhere?"

Dean raised a brow. That was a good point in fact. Scrubbing his face with his hand, Dean was about to get really angry if he'd defaced his car for absolutely nothing at all. He remained silent for a few seconds, and Sam shrugged. Cautiously, they both began to walk toward the mouth of the alleyway. Sam had his shotgun from the front seat of the car, while Dean had the demon-killing knife clutched in his right hand. Neither would do anything more than piss an angel off, but they were better than nothing.

Sam peered out of the alley first, glancing to his left down the street. Nothing. Dean poked his head around the corner for the right side, and also found nothing. Sam adjusted the shotgun to the barrel rested on his shoulder, and then scratched his head thoughtfully.

Maybe they had lost the car. Or maybe their paranoia had gotten the better of them. Dean gave himself a shake, as though that would clear his head. Sam turned back to the Impala, and was the first to notice. A lone figure stood by the passenger door, peering in through the window. Grabbing his brother's arm to catch his attention, Sam began to run back toward it.

Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. The brothers felt like they couldn't sprint fast enough, as the figure opened the back door and reached inside. Kayla gave a shriek as she was grabbed by the hair. Sam lowered his shoulder, and lunged forward in a body-tackle that threw them both against the Impala's open door. Dean hauled down on the open trunk, slamming it closed with unnecessary force. Just so he could throw his cut palm down on the sigil, activating it.

Blinding white light washed through the alleyway, the big man's shout of anger drowned out Kayla's cries of fear. But when the brilliance of the banishing sigil faded, only three of them remained. Sam was on the ground, half propped up against the Impala's open rear door. Kayla was hanging out of that opening, having been half-dragged by her hair. Dean leaned over the trunk, his forehead resting on a spot of cool, clean metal.

Sam helped Kayla sit herself back up, picking himself off the ground in the process. Dean patted the Impala's trunk, apologizing to the car for the damage they'd just wrought to it. Sam tested the door, and found it closed still, but protested being opened once more. He winced as he looked at his brother, and Dean just sighed. He was too tired, and too confused right now to even be angry about it. As they sunk into their respective seats, Kayla leaned forward.

"Who was that? And what did you just do to him?" Her voice held steady, but every inch of her body shook like a leaf in a hurricane. Sam turned in his seat slightly, as Dean began to back out of the alleyway.

"I promised you we'd tell you what was happening," Sam began as gently as he could. "We're still not completely sure why, but... that man wasn't a man at all..."

* * *

It took Sam all of two hours to explain about angels and demons and all the other things that go bump in the night. Dean thought that Kayla took it all remarkably well. She had no questions for them; in fact she said absolutely nothing for the better part of the next twelve hours. Every time Dean thought she had fallen asleep, he'd glance into the rear view mirror and find her staring out the window, worrying on her lower lip. She hardly dared to step out of the car when they stopped for snacks, and gas.

Sam kept talking at her though. As if his voice would eventually break through the wall of self-imposed silence she had constructed around her. He told her stories, dozens of them, some funny, some painful, of all the things they had hunted as brothers, all the pain they had gone through together. Twelve hours had gotten them almost halfway. It was well past midnight, at a truck stop in Tennessee that she finally broke her silence.

"Castiel is one of the good ones," Sam was telling her, leaning against the side of the Impala while he watched the digital numbers on the pump roll through. "He rebelled for us, took a stand against his brothers, because he believed in us. There were times we didn't even believe in each other..." Sam trailed off, his eyes flicking to the convenience store's front window, where Dean had just dumped an armload of snacks on the register counter.

"Sam?" Kayla's voice was quiet and shaking, her hand stuck out of the back window just enough to touch his arm. Instantly, Sam bent over, offering her a warm smile, inviting her to continue. "Wh-whatever is going to happen... you and Dean can keep me safe, right?"

"Yeah, we will. We promise. Castiel will help, so will Bobby, you'll see."

Kayla didn't answer immediately; instead, she dropped her eyes from his face, and pulled her hand back into the car. That hand dropped to her lap, where it wrung nervously with her other one. "Every... instinct... I have tells me to keep running. But I won't. I..."

Sam reached into the car, resting his hand on her shoulder, hoping the weight was comforting in some way. "I know. We want to figure out why they're after you too. We'll get answers. It's what we do." Dean was headed toward them, juggling two bags of goodies. "After you eat, you should try to get some sleep. It's a long way to Bobby's..."


	6. Chapter 5

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Five**_

_Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This..._

Sam couldn't rouse Kayla completely once they pulled into Bobby's lot. He couldn't blame her; both he and Dean were so tired neither of them could see straight. He could only imagine how she was feeling after running for so long, and finally finding a place she could feel decently safe. She woke just enough to wave him off, and mumble something that sounded vaguely like Martian before falling back asleep.

While Dean headed into the house to prepare Bobby for what was to come, Sam pulled her out of the car, into his arms, and resolved to carry her to the house. Kayla kept her death-grip on his jacket, and he found she was lighter than he expected. With one arm under her knees, and the other curled around her back, she fit comfortably into his arms. For a moment he stopped, and put his face into her hair.

Inhaling deeply, he basked for a moment in the scents. She still smelled vaguely of brine, and sea salt, but he could tell she used something pomegranate-scented for shampoo normally. Yet there was something else, something more there that he couldn't quite put his finger on. The moment he thought he had it, it faded from sense and was gone. Kayla stirred in his arms, nestling her head against his chest.

Only then did Sam nudge the Impala's door closed, and start heading for the house. Dean rose to meet him at the door, and to his brother's raised brows, Sam shook his head slightly.

"She's out like a light. I don't even think a nuclear bomb would wake her." Sam whispered, worried about waking her nonetheless.

"Good. Couch..." Dean pointed to where Bobby had a stacked a few blankets, and left a pair of pillows. Sam agreed with Dean's choice. He didn't want her out of sight for too long either. With Dean's help, it took him only a few moments to set Kayla down, but to get her to release her grip on his jacket took a few moments longer.

Dean smirked at her half-awake, mumbled protests, and gave Sam a nudge with his elbow. "Aww, she's sweet on you, Sammy."

Sam's face pinched momentarily, then narrowed. He gave Dean a shove, and turned away, mostly so his brother wouldn't see the embarrassed blush that rose in his cheeks. They didn't know _what_ she was, and the last thing Sam wanted in the world was to get involved with another _what._

As if on cue, Bobby came clomping up his basement stairs. "Well, what're-" His eyes widened as both Winchester's shushed him as soon as he'd opened his mouth. "-you two idjits lollygagging for?" He dropped his voice as soon as his eyes settled on the couch behind them. "Damn, boys..."

Crossing the room, with a much lighter step this time, Bobby stopped between the brothers to look down at the girl they'd brought home. Girl, being the operative word. If Bobby hadn't already talked to Dean, he would've easily put this girl at underage, sixteen at the most. She was sweet-faced, with dark hair that couldn't decide if it wanted to curl, or lay straight.

Dean didn't say much, but instead drew Bobby away from the couch. Letting her sleep seemed like the best course of action. It would give them the rein to talk about whatever they wanted to in the meantime. Bobby leaned up against the doorjamb, keeping the couch in his peripheral vision. Scrubbing a hand over his beard, he waited for one of the two to say something.

Sam was the one who cleared his throat. "So what now?"

"We keep her safe." Dean's immediate reaction wasn't unexpected. "Both sides are hunting her, she deserves to be safe until we know why. Then we deal with the why, once we get to it."

"That's all well and good boys, but we got bigger fish. The Alphas. And Eve." Bobby sighed. "If the angels and demons are power-struggling over her, no one's gonna help us with the Mother of All."

"Unless Kayla's another one of Eve's creations," Sam said quietly.

"She's not."

Dean looked up to find Castiel staring intently at him. As usual, the angel had just appeared out of nowhere. Dean wondered if he could look more haggard. Something caught his attention though, and pointing, Dean leaned a little closer.

"Dude, is that a split lip?"

In answer, Castiel raised a hand, and used the cuff of his overcoat to wipe away the trace of blood. He ignored the wound, because it would close shortly enough. His vessel wasn't badly hurt, but the pain Cass could feel wasn't physical. He didn't like having to hurt Balthazar to get answers out of him. Ignoring Dean's attention for a few minutes more, he tried to explain what he's learned.

"What Kayla is shouldn't exist... they were antediluvian creatures -"

Dean held up a hand to stop him. "Anti-wha?"

"The Flood, Dean." Sam answered in his most patient tone. "As in, the Great Flood. Noah's Ark, the whole nine yards."

Cass nodded to confirm. Bobby recrossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes. "Wait, are you talking apocryphal lore here?"

"Yes. I am." He drew breath to continue, but Sam had already turned to Bobby.

"Wait a minute, the church doesn't acknowledge those books as cannon; I thought that meant.."

"Doesn't mean it's not true, son. Just cause the church thinks it don't exists, doesn't meant it isn't there. Haven't you learned anything?"

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but Dean stuck his hand in between the two of them. Then he pointed to Castiel. "Guys, angel here, has got a few more things to say."

Tension unwound from Cass' shoulders. "Thank you." Dean smiled in response, and settled back against the wall for the rest of the story. "As I was saying... The Deluge should have wiped out all knowledge of even how to create them... Nearly all of the angels who fathered them are imprisoned still."

Dean shot a look at both Bobby and Sam. They were the brains in the operation, but Sam had turned to Bobby as well, waiting for some unveiling. Blinking, Bobby looked at Castiel, as if trying to see where the punchline was coming from. He then looked at the girl in the other room, sleeping peacefully on the couch.

"You mean to tell me, that little girl there... is one of the nephilim?" Bobby's question was answered with silence.

Castiel's eyes closed. A muscle tightened in his jaw. Dean knew that look. That look wasn't good. That look usually meant the angel was about to do something he really, really didn't want to do. As Cass started to take a step, Dean immediately moved to block his path.

"Oh, no, Cass, you need to tell us exactly what this means." Physically, Cass' vessel was a few inches shorter than Dean, so it was one of the few times in his life he could actually loom over someone for effect. He greatly enjoyed these rare moments.

But when Cass raised his eyes to Dean, he remembered exactly why he didn't try to loom over Cass often. The angel's stare could be wholeheartedly disconcerting. Dean took half a step back, but stayed at least in the angel's path. It wouldn't stop Castiel if he got it into his head to do something, but it was making him rethink his options.

"Balthazar says we should just kill it and be done." Cass admitted gently.

"We're not killing her." Sam and Dean spoke at the same time. That unconscious habit reinforced the sentiment that much more. While Sam glanced at his brother, Dean was wise enough not to take his eyes off of Castiel, even for a moment.

"I don't want to." There was a bit of stress in Cass' voice as he spoke, an uncharacteristic strain. Bobby edged around the angel to stand by Dean's side, while Cass kept trying to explain. "Among the other things the Deluge wiped out was the knowledge of how to control the nephil's horrible power. If... if we can learn who fathered her, then perhaps he'll know how."

"And we won't kill her." Bobby stressed again.

Castiel began to shake his head, but his eyes lit on something behind Bobby. The girl. She still lay curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, but her eyes were wide open, and staring directly at him. Unconsciously, he squared his shoulders. The motion caused her to stir, to sink a little further down into the grips of the blanket. He couldn't be sure how much she had heard, but from the expression of terror that she was trying valiantly to hide, she'd heard enough.

"No one dies." Castiel agreed quietly. The intensity of his gaze caused Sam to see what he was staring at. When he saw Kayla awake, he swore softly under his breath.

Dean watched his brother break away from the group, and drop down to his knees beside the couch. Kayla flinched away from him, before closing her eyes and squeezing them tightly shut. Dean, Castiel, and Bobby filled the entrance to the hallway.

"She's frightened of me." The angel sighed.

"Can't say's I blame her," Bobby observed, wryly. Dean glanced over at the two of them. While Castiel didn't look any different, the mood in the room had grown somber, and sad.

Cass turned to Dean. "The panic room has been... angel-proofed. I'll... I should go."

"Cass, wa-" Dean growled as his words were ignored. Castiel vanished anyways. Scrubbing his face with both his palms, Dean tried to lower his frustration level. For a few moments he looked up to the ceiling, and then he glanced over at Bobby. "So, now what do we do?"

* * *

Castiel reappeared nearly half a world away, just in time to see Balthazar roll an orange around on the palm of his hand. After a few moments, Balthazar's strong fingers tucked into the rind and stripped off a piece.

"Don't you ever get tired of catering to those monkey's whims?" The question was, of course, rhetorical. Castiel never answered anything he asked straight anyhow. Balthazar was used to it though; this taste of freedom, the taste of the new order of things, was too sweet for him to complain. Flicking his eyes upward, he issued the unspoken challenge to the angel who considered himself superior.

Castiel didn't answer him. Instead, he walked slowly around the table, looking at the sumptuous fare laid out. Spreading his hands, Balthazar wordlessly offered him a seat, but didn't expect the other angel to sit down. He wasn't disappointed.

"I see. So, it's going to be like that, is it?" Balthazar fell into the silence for a few moments, as he stripped another section of rind from the fruit. Tempted as he was to wax poetic about the simple origins of a sweet fruit, he kept his tongue in check. Castiel was angry about something, and prodding at the angry angel would do nothing to improve his mood.

"We can use her, Balthazar." Castiel finally spoke as the rogue finished peeling his orange. "We can harness her power, and use her. Raphael..."

"Knows that it exists, and probably has the key to controlling it." Balthazar finished the sentence for him, placing the orange down on the table, and leaning forward. "How many times do I have to tell you this? You need to kill the nephil. Harvest a soul that powerful-"

Cass held up his hand, cutting off the lecture one more time. "I won't."

Rising to his feet, the rogue affected a huge sigh. He wouldn't let Castiel see how much he was enjoying this. Talking back to one who could be considered his superior was just one of many perks that came with being _free_. "You're not thinking rationally, Cass. Killing it is the wisest course! We can't control it. Look, if you can't kill that _thing, _then I will."

He began to rise to his feet, but was stopped halfway through the motion when the flat of Castiel's hand hit the table with a resounding smack. Looking up like a startled rabbit, Balthazar found himself transfixed by Castiel's hard stare. The angel may harbor a soft spot for humans, but as a general, as a war leader, he was hard and becoming more desperate by the hour.

"You will do nothing of the sort." Castiel growled, silently daring Balthazar to try something. "You will, however, bring me the names of all the angels who could possibly even know how to create a nephil."

The rogue's withering stare didn't even hold a candle to Castiel's glare. But still, he had to try. "Now, wait just a moment-"

"Are you forgetting the terms of our arraignment?" Cass murmured. Balthazar's shoulders twitched, and he angled his body slightly away from the angry angel. It was enough of an answer for Cass. "Good. Then you will do as I say, and bring me the names."

Balthazar broke eye contact first, looking down at the sad little orange in his hand. Somewhere during the entire exchange, he had clenched his fist, and squished the fruit, leaving his palm sticky and citrusy with juice. Dropping the pulp back onto the table, Balthazar affected a smile for his superior, and departed in a flutter of unseen feathers.

Castiel sagged as soon as he was alone. His shoulders slumped, and his chin touched his chest. Drawing a long, steadying breath, he closed his eyes. Being a general was tired, and wearisome, and some days, like today, Cass just wished everything could go back to being the way it was: predictable, predestined. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the call to arms, and decided to rouse himself.

Just another battle in a war of attrition.


	7. Chapter 6

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Six**_

… _With not a Shout, but a Whisper_

Morning always came too soon, as far as Sam was concerned. Sunlight cut through the curtains and landed in a perfect beam across half his face. Rolling irritably away from the sun, he caught sight of Dean still sprawled out on his stomach across the room. Dean's pillow was pulled over his head to block out the sounds, and the light. For a moment, he was envious, but then he remembered just how much driving Dean had done in the last few days. Scratching his chest, and trying to shake the sleep from his limbs, Sam eased out of the guest room and started downstairs.

Top on his list of things to do today was to grab a shower. And get his laundry done. Downtime was rare and they had monsters to catch. But for the moment, they could catch their breath and figure out what to do next. The double doors leading from the hallway into the study were closed, so he went the long way around to avoid disturbing anyone still sleeping.

Bobby was already up. Or maybe he'd never gone to sleep. A fresh pot of coffee still bubbled in the kitchen, and Bobby himself was seated at the table with the morning paper. He simply nodded when Sam came in, and then cast a pointed glance into the study. Sam didn't bother knocking on the wall before entered. Kayla was awake. It didn't look like she had slept either.

But at least she was showered, some small part of Sam's mind noticed. Her hair wasn't straw-hard anymore, though it was still damp. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and her knees curled up, but Sam could see a glimpse of a flannel button-up beneath. She'd borrowed clothes, presumably from Bobby. Sam glanced back to find Bobby watching him. When the Winchester boy gave a questioning eyebrow, Bobby just shrugged in answer.

"Hey," Sam got her attention before he sat down on the couch with her. "Did you sleep at all?"

Kayla looked up from her book, and settled those vibrant green eyes on him. Biting her lower lip, she simply shook her head. "Bobby gave me a book, so I'd stop asking him questions. I've been reading."

Sam reached out, and tipped the cover of the book up slightly. Both brows raised, and he glanced back at Bobby, who was paying attention to his paper again. "The Book of Enoch?"

Kayla nods slightly. "It gets weird at the end, but it talks about..." She paused, as though unwilling to continue. The word stuck in her throat, only because of what she had read. "... the nephilim in the beginning."

Sam settled in slightly, inviting her questions by the action. Not that he would know exactly what to say, but maybe between the two of them, they could figure something out. Bobby's chair scraped across the floor and Sam heard the sound of mugs being drawn out of the cupboards.

"But it says that all the angels who fathered the nephil were cast... into prison, I guess..." Kayla flipped through the book until she found the page near the beginning that she was looking for. "All two hundred of them... Do I mean that they've escaped?"

"We're not sure, kiddo." Bobby answered as he came into the study. His hands were occupied by an offering of coffee, one of which Sam gladly accepted. Kayla took her mug as well, but only seemed interested in warming her hands around the ceramic. "That's what the boys angel-friend is trying to find out."

"If he's not fighting his war..." Sam amended.

Kayla looked between the two of them, and closed the book in her lap. "Tell me about him? What's his name? How'd you manage to get your own personal guardian angel?"

Sam began to laugh. "He's not our guardian angel... Look, Kayla, it's a long story."

"We've got time," she interrupted. "Don't we have to wait for him to bring us answers?"

Sam looked to Bobby for help, but the old man just shrugged. "Girl's gotta point."

Grumbling slightly, Sam stretched out his frame and crossed his legs at the ankles. "So, I guess it started a couple years ago..."

* * *

"You told her?"

"Not all of it, Dean, just... just the important bits." Sam hated trying to rationalize with Dean while he was preoccupied. Dean's body was hidden beneath the Impala, working on an over-due oil change for his baby.

Dean made a noise. Something not quite accepting, but not condemning either. "But you told her, about us... the whole... Apocalypse thing?"

"Just surface. Look, Dean, she deserved to know, with what she's getting herself dragged into. I never said it was us, I just said we had a hand in stopping it." Sam sighed. He wasn't going to get through to Dean this way, not in a long time. "I'm just happy she's not terrified of Cass anymore. It'll help out when he stops by next." Dean answered with silence. "Or when we call him."

"I'm not praying for Cass, right now, Sammy!" Dean shot out from beneath the Impala, the rolling board making a racket on the concrete. "We need a day or so to get back on our feet, figure out where to go from here. We're at a bunch of dead ends. Nothing new on the Mother... nothing new on the war. We've got _nothing_, Sammy."

"That's exactly why we have time." Sam put on his best _I'm not frustrated, really_ face, and turned to face Dean as his brother stood up. "She's asking questions that we can't answer. We're out of our league with this one."

Dean snatched a rag up from the side, and wiped the worst of the grease off his hands. He didn't even bother giving Sam a look, because Sammy would turn on those puppy-dog sad-eyes to make Dean cave. Instead, he was planning on going to Bobby for mediation. Like the dutiful puppy he often looked like, Sam followed Dean right into the house. And right into a whole different sort of argument.

"I'm not going down there." Kayla stood with her arms crosses, her chin set at a stubborn angle, looking up at Bobby. "No way. No how. Nuh-uh."

For his part, Bobby looked like he was six seconds away from exploding. He pointed again at the basement door, and without even bothering to hide the strain keeping his temper in check was putting on him, stated for the hundredth time: "It's safest for you if you're in the panic room. It's warded, against angels, demons, and anything else that doesn't belong on God's green earth."

As the girl drew breath to counter, Sam pushed between them, grabbing the door to the basement and pulling it shut. He ignored the dirty look Bobby sent in his direction, in favor of putting his hand on Kayla's shoulder, and turning her away from the place.

"I take it you're a little claustrophobic?" He asked gently, leading her back into the study.

Kayla turned bright red instead of answering him, and he let her settle down onto the couch before he prodded her a bit more. "It's... underground actually... more than anything else..."

Dean watched Sam work his magic from the doorway, letting Kayla calm down. Bobby, after having retreated into the kitchen, joined him, offering a cold brew. The two drank in silence for a few minutes, with Dean breaking into a smile as a nervous laugh rose from Kayla. Then he sighed, and looked at Bobby.

"We have got to figure out what to do with her." Dean couldn't think of anything, so he was hoping Bobby had come up with a brilliant plan.

Instead, the grizzled hunter just shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine." He took another pull off his beer, grimacing slightly at the overly wheaty taste. "Maybe we start teachin' her to hunt. Protect herself. Seems as good a idea as any."

Dean shook his head. "No way. I'm not going to force her to give up her normal life to be like... like.. us! She deserves better than that!"

"Dean." Dean flinched as Castiel appeared just to his left. Swearing under his breath, Dean fixed the angel with a fierce _stop-that_ look. But the angel ignored him, and carried right on. "Her chances at a normal life were forfeit the day she was created. I'm sorry."

"I hope this means you have answers for us." Bobby sounded tired, and he succeeded in phrasing the words as a common statement. But as soon as Castiel's blue eyes turned on him, he knew the answer.

"I'm afraid not. Only more questions. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen." Cass slid between them to stand before Sam and Kayla. The smile fell right off her face as soon as she saw the trenchcoat. Sam gave her shoulder a squeeze before getting up and joining Dean and Bobby.

Cass stood awkwardly for a moment, as though waiting for Kayla to have a panic attack and need to be rescued. Kayla focused on the angel's loosened tie, unable to meet his eyes, waiting for some sort of divine wrath of God to rain down upon her. Finally, Cass bent at the knees, dropping into a crouch so he could be on eye level with her.

"I need to ask you a few questions, Kayla." It wasn't the same brusque tone he usually took with the brothers. "Some of them may not be pleasant for you, but I need the answers, as best you can."

Kayla nodded, mutely, unable to free her tongue from the roof of her mouth. Cass readjusted slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. He ducked his head, until Kayla met his gaze; she only held it for a few seconds, before darting her eyes away again, but it was progress.

"What was your father's name?"

"Martin." Kayla's voice came out quiet, and shaky. "Martin Druin."

Cass got quiet, his eyes moving slowly from side to side. Inside his head was a vast body of knowledge, most of which he never realized he knew until he needed the information. As he was sifting through the facts, repeating the vessel's name to himself over and over again, Kayla snuck quick looks at him, wondering just when he was going to get tired of this game and do what had been recommended.

Finally, when he shook his head and looked back up, Kayla's eyes dropped like rocks to rest on her hands. "He must have changed it when he went into hiding. It's no vessel I've ever heard of." Cass glanced back at the brothers, only to find they had moved into the room, and now sat on the end of Bobby's desk watching the exchange. "How did he die?"

"Car accident," Kayla's voice was again tiny, and small. "I... I was four. I don't remember much."

Dean nudged his little brother, and Sam coughed softly. "I found the article about the accident. Online." He supplied, helpfully. "Kay's dad swerved to avoid a tree, that fell... in the road." Something about all the eyes on him suddenly made his throat go dry. Kayla even stared, but he wasn't sure if it was awe or fear on her face. "Tropical storm... and road was slippery.. well, he, uhm... he hit the guard rail and went over, but... Kayla... and her car seat, were found stuck to the end of the twisted metal. The metal was through the car seat, into her back." He wanted to reach forward and hug her, but Cass was in the way. "Your dad died on impact, Kayla. He didn't feel any pain."

Cass seemed to absorb it all, before looking back at the girl. She had tipped forward on the couch, her elbows on her knees and her face hidden behind that curtain of dark hair. Her despair was heady and thick on the air, so much so that Cass felt he could reach out and touch it. Instead, he laid a hand on the crown of her head, rising as he did so. The gesture was meant to comfort, but only served to make her more miserable.

"I'm sorry." He murmured softly, before turning away slowly. He moved specifically toward Sam now, standing deeply inside the younger Winchester's personal space. Sam straightened a bit, putting himself a full head taller than the angel. "Did the report say anything about ash?" When Sam shook his head to the negative, Castiel scowled a little harder. "What about her mother?"

Kayla heard that last question and perked up. For the first time, she actively touched Castiel, grabbing his sleeve and pulling his attention to her. "You will leave my mother out of this!"

Cass' eyes widened. "She's still alive?" He glanced to the side, and suddenly, vanished.

Kayla swiped her hand through the space the angel had just occupied, nearly belting Sam in the process. She looked around frantically, and in one split second, closed her eyes. A moment later, she too vanished.

Bobby let loose a low whistle. "Great. Now we got two of 'em."

* * *

Castiel didn't expect to be followed, much less tackled upon arriving at his destination. Kayla hit him less than thirty seconds after he'd arrived. Following him like that, trusting in her fledgeling translocation skill had taken guts. Attacking him, when he was on a mission, however, felt like sheer stupidity. But she had taken him by surprise, and they went tumbling down to the ground together, landing in a heap of arms and legs, and fabric. Kayla was wild and inexperienced; it didn't take Cass long to flip her over and pin her down.

Still she fought, twisting and writhing under his grip. A dim part of his mind, not concerned with self-preservation, admired her fighting spirit. A more animal part of his mind simply admired _her_.

"You need to calm down. All I want to do is talk to your mother." Cass used his calmest tone of voice, repeating the words until Kayla stopped struggling. He uncurled his hands from her wrists, and pushed himself up to his feet. Squaring his shoulders, he looked down at the girl, working to catch her breath on the ground.

Once she calmed down a bit more, he offered her a hand up. She stared at his long fingers for a while, before accepting, and allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. "Good luck talking to her. She hasn't had a sane thought since I was ten."

"I will try nonetheless." Cass began to walk away, only to pause a few feet from their tussle. He looked back to study Kayla, and was again taken by the subtle aura of power surrounding her. "Come with me. We must be quick. She hasn't had time to put her wards up yet." Cass blinked out, trusting her to follow on instinct.

"Wards?" Kayla asked to the open air, before closing her eyes and picturing Castiel once more.

This time, she overshot slightly. Instead of landing with her feet on the floor beside him, she appeared a good foot above the floor, only to drop suddenly when gravity took hold. Cass cast her a glance, and put a hand out to steady her. Kayla fought against a sour face as her stomach rolled, angry at its emptiness. As she recovered, Cass pointed across the room to where willowy Daphne Druin was poised at her easel, paintbrush in hand.

One look around told Kayla this wasn't the same hospital. Of course not, the last one had a massacre take place next door. It was only logical that all the patients got transferred. This room wasn't nearly as nice as Daphne's prior one; it looked more like a traditional hospital room instead of a hotel suite. As they approached, Daphne touched her brush into a pot of paint and dabbed at the empty canvas.

"Mom?" Kayla always asked the question, and never got an answer. As she always did, the older woman simply ignored everything and everyone that didn't fit into her quiet little fantasy world. Kayla's voice nearly broke as she leaned forward. "Hey, Mom, it's me."

Cass shook his head slightly, dismayed by her lack of answer. Kayla backed off for a moment, and the two of them stood quietly and watched Daphne go about her dreamplay. The woman hummed softly to herself and painted more and more on her blank canvas, just sort of arbitrarily placing dots of the single, primary color around. Every once in a while, she would glance over to the small bassinet placed beside the hospital bed; Castiel, his curiosity piqued, wandered over to take a look inside.

"She has a doll." He stated flatly, brow furrowed as he looked up to find Kayla watching him.

She nodded, simply agreeing with him, before she pushed her hair back from her face and leaned down to move the blanket slightly. "It's supposed to be me. The doctors said she's regressed mentally, and is stuck in a point where I'm a baby, and Dad's still alive. And worse yet, every day she wastes away... and they can't tell me why."

Castiel studied Daphne Druin carefully. "How do I get her attention?"

Kayla sank down to sit on the edge of the hospital bed, and she pointed at the baby doll. "Pick it up."

So Cass did. He grabbed the doll by the left arm and pulled it none-too-gently out of the bassinet. Holding the doll at about shoulder height above the ground, he cleared his throat. "Mrs. Druin?"

Daphne stopped humming instantly, and spun around. Her paintbrush plopped to the floor, wet end first, as she hurried to the side of her baby doll. Snatching it from the offending hands of the stranger, she glared and opened her mouth to berate him angrily. Cass struck first. His now empty, extended hand swung around and he pressed two fingers to the center of her forehead. Kayla was the one to cry out in shock, as she lunged, desperate to catch the crumpling form of her mother.

Barely managing to keep her mother's head from bouncing off the tiled floor, Kayla glared daggers at Cass. For his part, he felt confusion. Looking from his fingers, to the woman on the floor, he shrugged slightly.

"She wasn't supposed to fall." Crouching, he slid an arm beneath her legs, and shoulders, picking up the slight frame of the older woman and laying her down upon the bed. Kayla shoved him out of the way, and took up vigil beside her mother, curling her hand into the woman's smaller one.

"What was she supposed to do? Start dancing an Irish jig?" Kayla shook her head, dismissing Cass' open-mouthed attempt to explain. Instead, she ignored him, and smoothed her mother's hair, and talked quietly to her unconscious form.

Feeling guilty, Cass shifted inside his jacket. Who knew what would happen when the woman opened her eyes; he'd only meant to bring her mind back to the present day. He'd only wanted to talk about Kayla's father, perhaps find the answers he needed. He glanced upward, for a moment, only to be drawn again to watch the young woman bent over her mother.

The young nephilim, he corrected himself. A nephilim who should have a nearly insurmountable power, he reminded himself casually. So why was she so weak? He couldn't use a weak nephilim. He decided that he would give this a few more days, before abandoning this plan and returning to his original one. Just as he was about to return to Heaven, Daphne stirred.

"Babygirl? Is that you?"


	8. Chapter 7

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Seven**_

_In the Name of Thy Father_

"Mom?" Kayla couldn't believe it. Her mother had just actually recognized her. Before she could help it, tears had sprung into her eyes. Daphne sat herself up enough to embrace her child, and the two remained that way for a few moments.

"I had the strangest drea-" the older woman fell silent as she spotted Castiel standing across the room. Recognition flickered in her eyes. Her arms tightened around her daughter.

Cass crossed the distance before she could take any other action, laying his hand gently on Kayla's back to cause her to release her mother. Kayla tried to keep herself between them, but both gently edged her aside.

"You know who I am." Cass told her without preamble.

Daphne shook her head slightly. "I know _what_ you are. There's a difference."

Unconsciously, Cass made a sound in the back of his throat, acknowledging the difference in the two statements. "How?"

"Martin taught me. Something about your eyes. I had to be able to recognize your kind if something happened to Martin, because... because..." Daphne trailed off, unwilling or perhaps, unable to finish.

Kayla reached out first, taking her mother's hand in her own. "Because what, Mom? Because they would come for me? Because they would try to kill me?"

Mutely, Daphne nodded. "Because you're special." Kayla resisted rolling her eyes at that. It was a line many boys had tried to use on her when she was in high school. A line she never bit on, but to hear her mother use it now was almost insulting. Daphne didn't stop there, squeezing her daughter's hand. "Do you trust him?"

"Huh? Him?" Kayla looked at Castiel. "I barely know him, Mom. But..." She trailed off, thinking. Remembering. Cass had refused to kill her outright, contrary to the recommendation of that other angel. The Winchester boys trusted him implicitly, almost without question. She tried to grin, tried to make light of the situation. "He hasn't tried to kill me yet, so I suppose I do."

Daphne took a deep breath and winced, placing her hand to her forehead for a moment. Cass tensed, wondering what was going on, but the moment passed, and her features eased once more. Reaching up, the mother stroked her daughter's hair, smoothing it away from her face. "You look just like your father," she mused quietly. And then, looking at Cass, she smiled softly. "She was only a year old, when I learned what they are. I came home from work, and found Kayla's dolls dancing in the middle of the floor while she clapped, and Martin looked on." She winced again, pressing both hands to her temples, as though fighting against something.

"Mom? Mom, what's wrong?" Kayla's voice grew more concerned the longer that Daphne didn't respond. Cass moved forward, flanking the nephilim, touching Daphne's arm lightly with his fingertips.

"She's reverting back." Awe leaked into his voice quietly, as he drew back from the woman. Never before had his healing not taken permanent hold. Whatever, or whoever had driven her mad was much more powerful than him.

Daphne gasped.

"Mom! Don't go! I need you!" Kayla practically crawled up onto the bed, kneeling beside her mother, trying to get the woman to focus on her.

For a split second, Daphne's eyes opened. "Menlo.. find... Menlo..." As soon as the words were out, Kayla watched her mother's eyes dilate, and become unfocused. In a split second, Kayla had returned to a motherless orphan. Her hands fell back to her lap, and Kayla doubled over with a hard sob.

* * *

Sam was engrossed in a volume of Enochian lore, one of the many volumes that Kayla had left out when she had followed Castiel. He was worried, and trying hard not to show it, so he kept his face buried in a book. Dean for his part was doing the same, except instead of a book, Dean's nose was buried in the inner gears of his beloved Impala. Sam could occasionally hear the dull mumble of Bobby's voice as he called around in the kitchen to check on contacts, and informants, hoping to have a lead on Eve's whereabouts.

Sam was so engrossed with the theory that most of mythology's greatest heroes were descendants of the first Nephilim that he never noticed the slight sound behind him. Not until a small hand came to rest on his shoulder, causing him to nearly jump right out of his skin. The book dropped to his lap, as he spun the chair around violently, hoping to dislodge any opportunity for attack. Taken completely by surprise at his sudden action, Kayla stumbled backward, and knocked into a stack of books, the top dozen or so of which began a slow, despondent slide to crash upon the floor.

She stayed there, her back against the stacks, afraid that the slightest move would send more books crashing to the floor. Bobby glanced in from the kitchen, but remained content to let Sam handle it. The girl looked like she'd been crying anyhow, her bright eyes puffy and red-rimmed. After moving the book from his lap, Sam cautiously righted the stack behind her, reaching right over her head and shoulders to make sure nothing else would fall. As soon as he gave the nod that everything was safe, Kayla stepped forward, buried her face in his chest and threw her arms around his waist.

For a moment, he thought she was going to start crying again, but she didn't. Instead she squeezed him until he thought he was going to asphyxiate. When he made a quiet gasping sound, Kayla released him abruptly, stepping back to look up with an apology. Looping his arm around her shoulders, to guide her over to the couch, Sam shrugged it off. Something had happened, and he was going to find out what.

A quick glance around the room reminded him that Bobby didn't exactly keep tissues on hand for tearful girls. Sitting down with her on the couch, he framed her face with his hands and did his best to wipe away the tear marks streaking down her cheeks. After only a few seconds, Kayla pulled away, hunching her shoulders, and hiding behind the curtain of her hair.

"Hey, what happened?" Sam persisted, reaching out to push her hair back, so he could study her face in profile. He didn't ask the second question on his mind _Where's Cass? _Mostly because he figured that her current state had something to do with him.

Kayla closed her eyes, sniffled, and fought the urge to just break down into tears again. When she finally managed to speak, her voice was choked and tight. "I... I had my mom back... for all of five minutes."

Sam felt an instant pang of sympathy. How many times had he and his brother gone through that same feeling? Seeing their own mother, only to have her be ripped away again. He had no clue what to say to comfort her, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders again and pulled her close. Kayla offered no resistance this time, letting herself get folded up against his chest. It was nice to be hugged; nice to have the actual human contact.

"She recognized me, Sam..." Kayla continued, mumbling against his shirt. "She looked right at me, and saw me... Talked right to me. And then.. then... she was just _gone_."

Sam felt the tremble of her shoulders a moment before she started crying again. The wetness of her tears blossomed on his shirt, but she stayed quiet, barely whimpering as she cried freely. Sam rocked her gently, recognizing the signs of her complete emotional exhaustion. He raised his eyes to a small noise across the room, where Bobby and Dean were watching.

_Help me, please_, Sam cast in his brother's direction, beseeching with just a look. Dean tipped the neck of his beer in Sam's direction, a little grin playing on the edges of his mouth. _You're on your own, Sammy, _was the intent behind it. Bobby elbowed the elder Winchester hard, and retreated into the kitchen for a moment. He came back with a damp towel, and a glass of water. Settling himself down on the couch on the opposite side of her, he offered the towel first.

"Wash your face, child." Bobby's voice took on that gentle tone that he only ever used when someone was truly in distress or hurt. Kayla dutifully took the towel and pressed it to her face, sighing in relief as the cool cloth soothed her eyes. "Where's Cass, now?"

She shook her head, removing the towel for a brief second to answer. "He went someplace I couldn't follow." She pressed the towel back to her face again, sagging a little.

Sam's hand dropped from her shoulder, but remained on the back of the couch. He and Dean exchanged a glance, which Dean ended up clarifying for those who couldn't read their looks. "Probably got called to battle or something. Y'know... Angel stuff."

"Didja learn anythin?" Bobby pushed, a little more of his characteristic brusqueness coming through.

Kayla folded the towel up, feeling, and looking a lot more human, and she swallowed hard before answering. "She told me to find someone called Menlo." Bobby offered her the water, which she accepted with a pale smile, and sipped while she tried to figure out the reactions on the three faces around her.

"Men low?" Dean repeated. "Why do I get a bad feeling about this?"

"It sounds familiar, doesn't it?" Sam glanced at Bobby, who had already adopted his trademark puzzled frown as he pondered the word. Instead of continuing verbally, Bobby got to his feet and started combing the stacks of his books, muttering softly to himself as he read the titles, obviously looking for a particular volume.

Dean took the vacated spot on the couch, tucking one leg beneath him and leaning against the arm so he could watch the girl more carefully. "And Cass... you said he went somewhere you couldn't follow, right? How did you know you couldn't follow him?"

She bit her lip slightly. It was obvious that question had never occurred to her. "I just couldn't," she repeated a few times, as though trying to remember.

"How'd you do it before?" Sam picked up on where Dean was going with this: get Kayla's mind off what happened with her mother, and start her thinking about how to get a handle on what she can do. "You left us in the dust so easily before."

Her lips quirked into a little smile at the sideways praise. She scooted back a little on the couch so she couldn't have to swivel so much to look at each brother as he talked. She leaned her head back and focused on the ceiling for a moment. "I guess... I guess I just close my eyes, and picture where I want to be, or who I want to go to. I couldn't go to Castiel because I couldn't... focus, I guess. Not on him."

"Well, that sounds simple enough." Dean arched a brow and toasted to that idea. "You've got a Star Trek transporter beam in your head."

Kayla opened her mouth to protest, and correct him, but was interrupted by a triumphant "Ah-ha!" from across the room. Three sets of eyes focused on Bobby expectantly, as he turned back an old wavy vellum page in the book he was holding. He remained silent though, reading through a passage, squinting until his arms found the right distance to hold the book.

"Ah-ha what, Bobby?" Dean finally prompted, tired of waiting for the suspence.

Glancing up, Bobby studied the faces of those watching him. "This isn't good, boys. The angel Menlo is basically Michael's bitch."

* * *

"Are we sure this is going to work?" Kayla's voice shook as she forced herself to control her fear.

They had picked part of the salvage yard with a wide flat area. Dean was dragging the edge of a pickax in the dirt to create a shallow, narrow trench, while Sam was inside that circle weighing down a tarp with stones. The top of the tarp was painted with eldritch symbols, some of which Kayla vaguely recognized from her mother's artwork, while others looked like nothing more than a pile of squiggles. Bobby set the two jugs he was carrying down, and tried to offer her a smile.

"It's worked before. On ones more powerful than this one." He assured, sounding most confident of himself.

She bit her lip in response. Bobby was starting to believe that was how to stopped herself from speaking what was on her mind. The girl was pretty forthright most times, and she'd displayed no shortage of courage when it counted. He still felt his idea was best. The sooner they started teaching her, the better off she'd be in the long run. Dean'd never go for it, but he resolved to mention it to Sam sooner than later.

Sam stepped gingerly outside of the circle, while Bobby handed Dean one of the jugs. Bending down, Dean carefully filled the little moat he'd dug with holy oil, and then inspected the work carefully to make sure there were no breaks in the circle. Once he was satisfied, he returned to Bobby's side.

"We are ready to rock and roll." Dean sounded more confident than he felt. Angels were not high on his screw-with list, especially not angels allied to Michael. Retreating to Sam and Kayla's sides, Dean let Bobby do the hard work.

Neither of the boys had Bobby's knack with languages, sigils, signs, circles, yes, but never with spoken language. It was up to Bobby to make sure he didn't make a mistake reading out the summoning spell. Sam had a match ready to strike just in case the spell didn't ignite the oil like it was supposed to. Dean leaned against the old junker car, and hoped this fireworks show would be a short one.

As Bobby intoned the spell, Kayla shivered. The words were making her skin crawl, as though someone had poured a thousand ants inside her skin. She rubbed her arms subconsciously, and drew curious glances from the brothers, but she managed to get them to dismiss her unease as the same brand of nervousness that had been plaguing her since the start. She probably would have been able to keep them disinterested if she hadn't physically jumped out of her skin as Bobby's finished off the spell with a few short, snapping words.

Her reaction brought the Winchester's attentions away from the circle, and over to her. Sam reached out and looped his arm around her shoulders, as though that would comfort and keep her safe. Dean almost shook his head at his brother's compassion, but reminded himself silently that the situation could have been worse. Sam-with-his-soul was much better to have around than Sam-without. The two were so distracted that they missed Bobby's muffled curse as the holy oil ignited spontaneously into six-foot flames.

"SUFFER NOT THE ABOMINATION TO LIVE!" A voice boomed from behind the wall of flame. It was enough to break Kayla's resolve, and cause her to climb over the hood of the junker and hide behind it. "HEED ME! DESTROY IT BEFORE IT DESTROYS YOU!"

Suddenly, there was coughing, and wheezing, and the strong booming voice died out. As coughing continued, the flames flickered down to a much more manageable level, dropping enough to reveal the figure trapped inside the circle. He was doubled over, in the center of the sigils, hacking into his hand, as Dean ventured up to check on Bobby.

The older hunter waved off his concern, and the two of them studied the angelic vessel before them. He was dirty, unkempt, and unwashed. Obviously homeless, he was also apparently very sick. The vessel stopped coughing, and took a deep, lung-rattling breath. He became very aware of being watched, and did his best to straighten himself up. Seated deep inside his dread-locked hair and beard, a pair of amber eyes, bright enough to be called gold, stared back at Dean.

"Failure... Coward..." the homeless man hissed, hobbling forward a few steps, pointing at Dean. "Reject!" He rolled his r's like he was speaking a foreign language. Even gasping for air, the man's voice was strong, low and deep.

"Hey, now there's no need for name-calling," Dean protested. "Menlo, I presume?"

The homeless man nodded, unable to deny an answer. "Standard bearer for the first Legion... Shield-bearer for the tutelary _sar_, the angel of repentance, ruler of the Fourth Heaven... Michael."

Bobby and Dean glanced at each other. Dean stifled a laugh, and smirking stepped a little closer to the circle of fire. "Well, ain't that special? So, Menlo... you tellin' us to kill the girl because it's good for us, or because it's good for you? Cause last time I looked, you angel folk were wings-deep in a holy civil war..."

Menlo spat on the tarp, a gobbet of viscous yellow mucus. "Because of _you_, because of that upstart throne, my brother... my commander... is trapped in Hell, and Raphael refuses to allow any of us to attempt to rescue him." The harsh venom in the angel's words caused the flames to flicker a little higher. Menlo took a cautious step back from the edge, casting a hateful glance toward Kayla. "Kill her... your angel butt-buddy is back to losing. And the faster we win this... the faster my commander is free."

"Woah, woah... let's get one thing straight... Cass is not my butt-buddy. What we have is a completely normal, utterly platonic relationship." How Dean managed to make comments like that with a straight face, Bobby would never know. It was taking all the discipline he had not to bust out laughing. "Second thing, Michael is not getting out of that Cage, not now, not ever, certainly not while I'm alive and kicking."

Menlo drew breath for more venom, but began coughing again. The interruption was just what was needed though, as Kayla had gathered herself and ventured up to stand beside Dean. Sam was there with her, flanking her opposite side, just in case. Dean caught his brother's glance, and nodded slightly, agreeing to back off so she could take the lead. She waited until the coughing fit had subsided, and Menlo had straightened as best he could. Blood stained his lips as he sneered directly at her.

"Why would my mother send me to find you? A hateful, spiteful angel that goes against every tenant that God teaches?" Kayla's voice was so small compared to the monumental task before her, but she picked up strength as she carried on. "Why did she think you had the answers to my questions?"

Menlo's face screwed up as he resisted answering her. But the spell woven into the circle, and the heat of the holy oil against his face worked its magical way inside him, and loosened his tongue. "Because your father and I were cut from the same cloth... two of twelve to be given full pardons, our full duties back.." He rubbed the left side of his chest as he spoke. "Twelve of two hundred to bear the mark of His mercy..." Pulling the collar of his oversized shirt down, he revealed a scar spanning his entire pectoral muscle, in the shape of a large, five-fingered hand.

Kayla, frowning, pressed forward, standing within inches of the holy fire. Sweat beaded on her brow from the flames, but she had to know, she absolutely had to know. "What was his name? My father... His real name."

Menlo raised his golden-brown eyes to look at her across the flame. "Remiel..."


	9. Chapter 8

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Eight**_

_Point. Counterpoint._

_1996_

Remiel had called Menlo to the facade of his mortal office, the one place he could be certain to maintain privacy after hours. His daughter, his beautiful baby girl, lay sleeping on the desk, sprawled out on her tummy amid a nest of blankets he'd set up for her. Her sleep wasn't natural, but there was no way he could avoid that. She was still so young that her mind was malleable, and his suggestion would hold for many hours before he worried about her waking again.

Menlo borrowed the form of one of his undergrad students, a scruffy young man from Seattle named Ken. He'd visited the boy while he slept, proposing for them to take a walk together through his dream. As a result, Ken would likely remember the next course of events as nothing more than a dream.

"If Michael finds out I was here, you know I'll be sent to serve time with the others... Shriven or not." Menlo warned his fellow as he sat down.

Remiel only nodded, never taking his eyes off the child sleeping before him. "And if they find me, our fates will be much harsher."

There was silence as the other angel agreed to that thought. In the silence, Menlo studied the child between them. This was the life that Remiel had created. It was only fitting that of all of them, Remiel would remember how to create a nephilim. Menlo had merely been a soldier, while Remiel had been a keeper of secrets, a seeker of the hidden ways. As Menlo mused in silence, his eyes caught a flicker of motion from the girl-child.

Their eyes could see what mortal eyes could not. And Menlo leaned forward, to assure himself that his gaze was not lying. No. He was seeing true, of course; those truly were tiny, fledgeling wings twitching at the child's shoulder blades.

"So soon?" Menlo drew a deep breath, mouthing a curse silently. "She shouldn't be developing this quickly. Are you sure you performed the rituals right?"

Remiel's bluer-than-blue eyes were tired and weary, even as he rolled them at his timeless friend. "Children in this age mature faster than they did those eons ago, my friend. It is only natural that she does as well." Remiel rested his hand upon the child's head, smoothing her thick, dark hair away from her face. She was beautiful, even at that age. "I need your help to clip her."

Menlo could only nod. How many times had they done this together? Menlo had lost count of the sons and daughter they'd molded, some into heroes, some into villains, many into legend. But this child was different. There was a change in the way Remiel looked at her, a softness and emotion in his eyes that Menlo was unaccustomed to seeing in the normally rational and logical angel. For a few moments, Menlo struggled to put a name to it, but it wasn't until Remiel unsheathed his silvered angel-blade that the word came unbidden to his mind.

_Love_.

Remiel loved the child. And love was a dangerous emotion for an angel to feel.

Menlo steeled himself, and laid his hand upon his friends. Together, they drew breath and intoned the ritual that would bind and seal the child's power until she came of a responsible age.

* * *

"So we bound you..." Menlo was seated now, across the flickering flame wall from Kayla. "That was the last I would ever see of your father. We parted ways that night. He was killed on his way home from that meeting."

Kayla was confused though. There were a few things she couldn't connect. "So you helped my dad, because you were his best friend... and now, you want... you want to kill me? Why?"

"There is no one left to teach you... no one left who remembers how to properly control your power." Menlo dropped his eyes, ashamed of his words. "So it's best for everyone if you were to die."

Kayla got up then, backing away from the circle. She denied the shield-bearer simply by shaking her head at him. Menlo rose as she backed away, pointing a finger at her.

"The bonds are fraying, child! Once the last threads come undone, you will destroy everything you care for!" He called after her as she turned away, tears shining in her eyes. She pushed between Sam and Dean, breaking into a run for the house in the distance. Sam started after her, but Dean stopped him with a quick grab.

"We need to figure out what to do with Smelly McSmellerson, here." Dean thumbed at the trapped angel.

Sam's answer was simple. "Banish him. I think we're through."

Dean nodded, and flipped his pocket knife open. While Dean worked on the banishing sigil, Bobby tagged after Sam on his way back to the house.

"Hold up a minute, son, I gotta question for you..."

* * *

Balthazar poured Castiel a cup of tea, even though he knew the other angel would not touch the stuff. "You know you are in what the humans call a win-win situation, right, Cass?"

Cass merely grunted, and turned in his path to pace back across the room once more. Balthazar poured a bit of cream into his tea, and pursed his lips in thought. In light of all of this new evidence, he really wanted to push for the girl's death some more, but the subject was a touchy one.

"If she dies, her soul goes to Purgatory, with all of the other godless monsters and creatures of heathen spawn... you open Purgatory and, _voila_, supercharged nephilim soul at your service." Balthazar was rather pleased with his tactful suggestion of killing the girl. "No messy world-destruction, no impossible feats of prowess and daring..."

"No." Castiel stopped pacing long enough to growl the word out. "Of course it had to be one of the Shriven, how could I be so blind?" Once more, he started pacing, turning as he reached the end of the room, and stalking past Balthazar once more. "There were only... three of them left in Heaven after Father disappeared. The rest had vanished, hidden."

Balthazar sighed, and waved his hand. "Can we get on with the pity party, Cass? This is highly unlike you. Remiel is dead, which means all nine of the deserters are accounted for. Kill the girl, then take her soul from Purgatory. It's simple, isn't it?"

"It would be easier to keep her alive. I need allies. People who will understand what I am doing and why I am doing it. You know this, Balthazar. I know this. If we can control her, maybe we can learn how to make mo-"

"No. No, no.." Balthazar spilled some of his tea in his haste to set it down, and get himself out of his seat. "We may have been young, and inexperienced back then, but you and I both remember what chaos happened when just a few of those things slipped their leashes!"

Castiel turned, and stepped forward until he was nearly nose to nose with Balthazar. "It's chaos now. God's grand plan is broken and shattered to dust. We have free will. A little more chaos may be just what we need."

"Honestly, now, Cass, you can't believe that." Balthazar tried again. He needed Cass to see sense, to think more long term, as they had always been taught. He wasn't about to examine the hypocrisy of his own thoughts, talking sense into Cass, who was trying to fulfill his duties, while he himself hid from everything he ever believed.

"I can. And I do." Castiel canted his head to one side, his eyes shifting out of focus for a fraction of a second. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Rachel needs me."

Balthazar stepped backward once, and raised his hands in surrender. Even if he didn't excuse upstart angel, Castiel was going to leave. As soon as Cass was gone, Balthazar heaved a huge sigh of relief. Perhaps what Cass' second in command needed him for, would distract him from his plans for a few days. Long enough for Balthazar to figure out a secondary plan of his own.

* * *

"I can't believe I let you two talk me into this." Dean grumbled softly, easing the Impala onto the exit ramp.

"It wasn't that hard, Dean." Sam smirked a little as Dean shot him a scowl. "All it took was two words: Sorority Girls."

In the back seat, Kayla muffled a laugh. It had been true, once Sam outlined the plan for getting some of her belongings from her school, Dean had been more than willing to participate. Basically, the boys had gone into the sorority house, and collected Kayla's clothes and possessions as evidence. They left behind anything non-essential, but grabbed a few things she'd specially requested. The real compartment in the trunk was now filled with a few trash bags that held her clothes. Sam had grabbed her laptop and iPod as a second thought. All the while, Kayla hid in the Impala.

"Yeah, okay, I can get that part, but seriously, back to the homestead? What are we thinking?" Dean continued to gripe as he took the turns into the city proper. "This one?"

"Yup." Sam answered before Kayla could, glancing down at the GPS display on his phone. He glanced back with an apologetic smile once he'd realized his rudeness. She shrugged and dismissed it, and shifted in her seat again. Getting her clothes had given her the opportunity to change out of the oversized things she'd borrowed at Bobby's, and now that she had on a properly-sized shirt, and jeans, she appeared slimmer and more petite than ever.

Dean pulled the Impala up to the curb, in front of the small brownstone house. "We ready for this?" He asked, throwing his arm over the seat to study Kayla. When she nodded, he pointed at her. "Remember, WitPro, or something like it."

She nodded. "I saw too much, and can't come home. Right." She took a deep breath. "Let's do this."

Closure, that's what she was going for. Sam understood, even as he straightened his tie, and made a quick visual check of the block. Dean came around and joined him taking up position on either side of Kayla. Together, they marched her up the walk, to the sound of a barking dog. This time, when the door swung open, the dog came bounding out onto the walk, wagging its tail so hard it's entire body shook.

Kayla immediately dropped to her knees and let the golden retriever slobber all over her face. In between enthusiastic doggie-kisses, she roughly tousled fur with both hands. While Sam watched the interplay of girl and dog with a nostalgic smile, Dean was focused on the little boy who'd opened the door. He appeared to be about ten years old, with dark hair and dark eyes. He was completely ignoring the presence of the two men in suits, and instead, raised his voice in a tremendous "MOOOOOOM!" that brought footsteps running through the house.

Amy Druin and another man appeared in the doorway. The shock registered on their faces, and Amy broke from the trio to run down the walkway. Her steps were dogged by her husband, Rick, and their son, only a few moments behind. Dean stepped back and looked away, knowing that watching the reunion would bring back too many unhappy memories. Even Sam's smile faded, as he watched Kayla caught up in the embrace of her family, with a happy dog bouncing around their legs.

"Thank you, gentlemen. Thank you." Rick had broken away from the reunion after a few minutes, to approach the brothers. He offered a hand to both of them in turn, and received a heartfelt handshake. "Thank you for bringing Kayla back to us."

Dean glanced at Sam, who seemed unable to say what they had to say. Taking a deep breath, Dean forged forward. "Actually, I'm afraid she won't be able to stay."

As his words registered, a soft wail rose up from Amy. Kayla was instantly trying to soothe her, her joyful embrace immediately changing tone. Rick's face darkened considerably, and he squared his shoulders in an unconscious effort to match the height of the two men standing before him.

"You'll have to explain yourselves." He demanded. "What do you mean she can't stay?"

The hostile reaction brought Sam's mind around to the problem at hand. "Kayla's been witness to a rather... unique crime, sir. We'll be placing her in protective custody until arraignments can be made with Witness Protection. Due to the circumstances, you and your family are in no danger at all..."

Behind them, Kayla had gently disengaged from her aunt, and was sending the woman over to be with her husband. Her cousin was wrapped around her waist, his face buried in her hip, holding on for dear life. Wiggling his arms free, she fell to her knees so he could throw his arms around her neck instead. Squeezing him tightly, she rocked gently.

"Mikey, I have a super important job for you." She received a sniffle in reply, and a muffled answer that couldn't be understood. Taking him by the shoulders, she held him out to look him in the face. "I need you to take care of Samson for me. You're the only one I trust. Can you do that for me?"

Mikey's eyes shifted to the retriever sitting nearby. The dog's tail thumped on the walk, and his ears perked up hopefully. Mutely, the ten-year-old nodded. Kayla held up her fist, getting a slight smile from her cousin. He raised his own and tapped his knuckles to hers, drawing back their hands, they both extended their thumb and forefinger into a mock-gun shape and pointed at one another.

Sam was spinning a few good lines of bull to soothe the fears of the family, while Dean headed over to Kayla. Putting his hand on her shoulder, he called her attention away, and nodded slightly. Kayla rose slowly. She had spent much of the drive down coming to terms with the idea of leaving her whole life behind and starting a new one. She thought she was ready, but now that the time came to do the actual leaving, she couldn't bring herself to take the first steps. It all started with acceptance.

Walking away from her aunt, uncle and cousin meant that she was accepting the fact that she was not human in the slightest sense of the word. It meant that she believed every word of what Sam and Dean told her: the Apocalypse averted, the Mother of All monsters escaped her prison, a blue-eyed angel in a trenchcoat who believed she was his salvation. Sam's voice broke her from her thoughts.

"Go get what you need, Kayla. Five minutes." Only he could make an order sound gentle. Kayla felt her limbs freed from the paralysis of indecision, and she took Mikey's hand to head into the house for a few minutes.

Amy clung to her husband, and even though Rick was trying to be strong, he could feel his eyes clouding with tears. "Hey." Rick turned suddenly, pulling Amy around with him, to face Sam, the man he thought of as Agent Van Zandt. "Take care of her. Keep her safe. Please."

"We will." Sam promised, nodding, but watching Kayla as she came out of the house. Mikey tagged along behind her, sniffling still but trying to put on a brave face. Sam repeated himself, as she turned and knelt down to give her cousin a long hug. Goodbyes took longer than the greetings, and it was nearly twenty minutes later that Kayla let herself be packaged into the Impala and driven off.

Rick and Amy stood with their arms around each other until the car was long vanished. Samson and Mikey had gone back into the house, leaving them alone with their thoughts. Rick looked over at his wife, and allowed himself a small smile.

"Crowley isn't going to like this, is he?" he asked her softly, placing his lips against her forehead.

"Not in the least..." Amy answered. "You get to tell him this time."


	10. Chapter 9

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Nine**_

_Monkeywrench  
_

Crowley scowled at the phone, even though it did him no good. "Balls." He muttered, hanging it up. "Double balls." Turning a slow circuit around the small apartment, he double checked all the seals and sigils to make sure no angelic of any sort could get in. Crossing to the small kitchen table, he sat down heavily in the creaking chair, and covered his face with his hands.

His plans hinged on keeping that monster's existence secret from the angels. Now, not only had the demons failed keeping her secret, but the girl had fallen in lots with the Winchesters of all people. If that feathered ball of contradictions didn't already know about the girl, he soon would. And then all of Crowley's contingencies in the world couldn't help him out of the hole he'd dug for himself.

The self-named King of Hell groaned and leaned back in his chair. He opened his senses, and addressed the air, but put the weight of his authority, and the power of his office through the words. "Someone, bring me that nephilim!"

He had to plan, and he had to do it fast. Getting the girl onto his side of the bargain was the best idea. Because if Castiel had her, he wouldn't need the souls from Purgatory. And if the angel didn't get the souls, Crowley didn't get his share either. Without the souls, his reign as King wouldn't be a very long one. But the girl, maybe he could use her as leverage.

As the seeds of a plan began to take root in his mind, Crowley settled more comfortably into his chair, and waited for some word that the girl had been taken.

* * *

Kayla wasted no time laying a fat envelope down in front of Bobby once they had returned to the salvage yard. She offered him a smile, and gave his forearm a light squeeze. "Take it as a thanks," she told him, before heading off from his desk. She picked up the plastic bag she had set down once more, and skipped up the stairs quickly before Bobby could form any sort of words.

Opening the envelope, Bobby Singer nearly had a heart attack. Cash. There had to be at least two, maybe three thousand dollars stuffed into the envelope, in neatly stacked, neatly banded twenties. Mouth open, unable to quite manage to process real words, Bobby looked up to find Sam watching him from the hall. Shock rapidly descended into irritation, and Bobby closed the envelope and stood up, prepared to go upstairs and give that girl a piece of his mind.

Sam blocked his way however. "It won't do anything, Bobby; we tried to talk her out of it for hours." Sam nodded at the envelope. "It's what's left of her college fund."

Bobby wilted back into his seat, eyes on the envelope again. "Awww. Dammit." He dropped it onto his desk with a thud and glared at Sam from beneath the brim of his hat. "Way to remind us what we're robbin' from her, huh?"

Sam came into the room fully, sinking down into a chair across from Bobby. "She's actually kind of cheerful about it. She told me that so much finally is starting to make sense now."

"You think she's bluffing?"

"I'm sure of it." Sam let out a soft laugh, one that contained no joy. "She's got skills we can build on though. Track and fencing."

"Fencing?" Bobby repeated, glancing up from his book. "Like, foo-fra epee stuff?"

"Saber, actually." Kayla answered as she came down the steps. "Rick enrolled me when I was twelve. Said I needed an outlet for my anger." She breezed through the room on her way to the kitchen, and Sam turned in his chair to watch her appreciatively.

She'd changed while she was upstairs, into a pair of little cotton shorts, and a tank top. Sam was glad his brother was still outside, so there would be no off-color comments on how nicely the fabric framed her bottom. And he could oogle without fear of blushing. Too bad he had forgotten about Bobby.

"Son, look." Bobby nudged Sam's shoulder.

"I am, believe me." Sam whispered in answer, feeling the flush of embarrassment easing up his face.

Bobby sighed. "Higher, boy. Higher."

Sam blinked, and yanked his eyes away from the more pleasing sights, to travel up the length of her back. As Kayla leaned into the fridge, her hair slipped over her shoulder, revealing what Bobby had already spotted. Aside from the skinny straps of her top, Kayla's back was completely revealed. Her shoulders were well-muscled, smooth skinned, except for two strips of puckered, raised scar-tissue. The scars ran roughly parallel to her spine, about five inches apart from one another. Sam drew breath to say something about them, when Kayla straightened, and shook her hair back to cover the marks once more.

She turned back to face them, holding up a trio of cold beers in her fingers. "You guys want one?"

The question snapped Bobby out of his thoughts. "Yes, but you ain't getting one."

Walking into the study, she padded silently on the floor, barefoot. Sam took one of the three, and she held another out to Bobby. Then, as if to directly spite him, she cracked the final beer open with a deft twist of her wrist. Cocking her hip to one side, she took a long pull on the beer. Sam felt his mouth go dry, and quickly dropped his eyes.

"I'm.. uh... gonna go check on Dean." He pushed himself up from the chair and was out the door before either of them could speak. Kayla looked almost forlorn in the wake of his disappearance, but shook herself out of it and lowered herself into the chair he'd vacated. She pulled her legs up, crossing them in the seat, and leaned back, pressing the cold bottle against her forehead for a moment.

Bobby was sure he saw the mask slipping. Forcing herself to be cheerful had to take it's toll. He sat quietly, afraid to move or speak, in case she was working up to some great, earth-shattering revelation. She bit her lower lip, chewing over how to say it, and she checked both doors before speaking. "Mister Singer?"

Those green eyes of hers had a way of boring straight through a person. Bobby took a swig of his beer, giving her an affirmative grunt for her to continue.

"My aunt.. and uncle... back home..." she trailed off again, and Bobby, intrigued leaned forward.

"What about 'em, sweetheart?"

Kayla shook her head, and unfolded her legs in a quick motion. She got to her feet and flashed him one of her brilliant smiles. "Nevermind! It's just me being silly... worrying, y'know?" She winked, and tipped the top of the beer toward him. "Thanks for the brew. See you in the morning!"

She was out and back up the stairs before Bobby could curse under his breath. He knew there was a reason he disliked teenagers. Kayla qualified, but just barely. Grumbling under his breath, he fell back into the book, back into the futile search for clues.

* * *

In order to give Kayla a tiny amount of privacy at least, Bobby had given up his room for the couch once more. The brothers still kept the guest room (even though Bobby had long given up thinking of it as such). As was her custom for so long, Kayla allowed herself to drift in and out of sleep, never fully unaware of her surroundings. Just like in her sorority house, she could feel the people in the rooms around her. Dimly, in her half-aware state, she knew Sam slept fitfully, fretful, and worried. Dean was lost in blissfully happy dreams of a life he'd never have. Bobby's were of darker stuff, of things that would make a lesser man sob for his mother.

Her own thoughts and dreams drifted lazily. Sometimes, she dreamed of a song, while at other times she could hear someone calling her name softly. She had never really paid attention to what her mind touched on while she was trying to sleep, if what she was doing could count as sleep any longer. She wished she could revisit that exhausted, almost-drugged slumber than held her just days before.

Kayla wasn't certain what it was that made her open her eyes. A change from one of the others, perhaps? Or something worse, maybe a sound? With no trace of drowsiness, she slipped from the bed, and padded slowly around the room, checking the window first, and then easing the door open a crack to peer out into the hallway. Nothing. The house was silent as a tomb. So what was it?

Then it happened again. Her shoulders itched. More specifically, the long, thin scars down her shoulder blades tingled and buzzed. She twisted one arm around to her back to try to scratch the spot, and had nearly succeeded when something descended over her head. The sack fell neatly around her head and shoulders, just as a hand clamped down over her mouth and nose to prevent her from screaming. With a few deft moves, her assailant had her bound and gagged, when suddenly the world went screwy, and all sense of balance left her.

* * *

Sam was the last one mobile the next morning. That was one thing he hated about downtime, having some semblance of a real sleeping schedule destroyed his ability to be alert as soon as he opened his eyes. He did like having clean clothes to climb into, and the promise of a cup of coffee waiting for him to start his day. Little things like that made life worth living. Jeans, a clean tee-shirt, and a pair of boots later, Sam was tromping his way through the hallway.

He paused for a moment in front of Bobby's bedroom, his attention caught by the cracked open door. When he knocked lightly, it swung further open, and he stuck his head into the room. Spotting the thrown-back covers, and the opened window curtain, he figured that she was up already, and waiting downstairs for him. He couldn't help but smirk a little at the irony of it all. He, the reluctant hunter, getting ready to train new blood into the age old profession.

_You ready for this, Sam?_ He heard his father's voice chime inside his head, an ugly shade of doubt and worry rising up inside of him. Sam squared his shoulders, and turned to the stair. _Hell yeah, _he answered grimly, as he hustled down.

Just as he reached the study, Bobby was coming up from the basement with a half-dozen books in his arms. "This is it, Dean. The last of it." He dropped the stack onto the desk, sending up a cloud of dust from the uppermost book. "Once we're through here, we're outta books. Done. Finito."

Sam gave a doubtful look around, as he reached over Bobby's shoulder to pick up the top one. "You mean we've gone through everything?"

"Everything I ever collected." Bobby admitted, with a bit of a shrug. "And so far, not one little inkling of where we'd find an answer. I am plumb outta ideas after these, and I'm open to suggestions."

Sam flipped open the book in his hands, and paged past the first few sheets. "Heh, this would've been handy dealing with those dragons," he mused, as he headed into the kitchen for coffee. Dean dogged his steps, waiting until Sam was distracted by pouring himself coffee to nab the book from his hand.

"Why don't you go play Prince Charming and go wake up Sleeping Beauty? I think Bobby and I can handle six books on our own." Dean smirked, loving the idea of putting his little brother into awkward situations.

"Wait. What?" Sam overpoured the coffee, and cursed as it splashed over the counter. He missed the hotplate and instead just left the pot where it landed. "She's not already up?"

Dean shook his head, eyes widening as he picked up on his brother's growing sense of panic. When Sam took off for the stairs, Dean was right on his heels. Bobby looked up from the book he was reading as the boys bolted past; he pondered following them, but decided against it, knowing they would have the situation well in control before he got there.

Sam threw the door open calling her name, but received no answer for his troubles. Dean made a quick visual sweep of the room, cursing under his breath. Nothing was misplaced, nothing was askew. It just seems that she had vanished once more. Scrubbing his face with his hand, he turned to leave the room, taking a few steps out before he reached back and fetched Sam.

"C'mon Sammy, she probably smartened up and decided she wanted out." He had to rationalize it, for Sam, who still stood transfixed by the idea that she'd just up and left. "Or maybe Cas needed her for something."

Sam blinked at the second suggestion. That made more sense. He could tell that Dean was only trying to help, but some small portion of him still felt deflated. Kayla had seemed genuinely excited about learning what the brothers did for their self-appointed job. Dejected, he followed Dean from the room and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Kayla came to with the sense that she was lying on her side. Her hands were bound behind her back, and she couldn't see. It felt like someone had hit her hard enough to ring her bell within the last hour or so. Just as she was about to roll and struggle to her knees, she became aware of another person nearby. A steady, raspy breathing came from just to her left. She stopped moving immediately, and settled in to listen. When the breathing didn't change, she began to count time by it. Someone was sleeping nearby.

Perfect. She began to focus, pulling up all the details she could remember about Sam Winchester in her head. The back of her head throbbed as she worked, making the process take twice as long as normal. And when she finally managed to fix Sam's image in her head, she took a deep breath in and simply _wanted_ to be with him. Instead of the now familiar feeling of the world shifting sideways, she received a backlash of blinding white agony that burst behind her eyes.

Unable to stop herself, she cried out in pain. And the sound of breathing changed remarkably. While Kayla lay still, whimpering in the aftermath of her escape attempt, a door opened and closed twice. Once to let her sentry out, and once to let her captor in. Someone knelt beside her, placing a cool hand against her face. A few moments later, she was freed of the blindfold, and could squint through the pain at the face of her kidnapper.

He flashed her a smile that never touched his eyes. Sharply dressed in an all-black three piece suit, she thought he was rather handsome, but in a very odd way. His face was on the round side, and he was solidly built without bearing any excess weight. His fingers were cool, and not unkind as he cupped the back of her head and touched the tender spot where she'd been struck.

With her so vulnerable in his hands, she waited for a moment or two before trying to speak. But as she opened her mouth, he held his other hand up, shushing her, while shaking his head.

"I think not, poppet." His voice was low, and brushed with an accent that she had trouble defining. Something British maybe, or Scottish even. "Consider yourself a permanent guest here; I can't have you goin' and interrupting my plans now, can I?"

Kayla blinked in confusion, and tried to twist away from his hands. It caused him to push his fingers against the tender spot near her temple, and send her senses reeling in pain once more. Kayla managed to sob a single word, causing him to release her, as he laughed.

"Why? Oh, Poppet." He settled back on his heels, resting his hands on his knees, while he regarded her carefully. "Because I'm the King of Hell, child. And you are an angelic crusader for the right folks, at the wrong time. Get comfy; you're in for a long stay."

With that, he rose quickly to his feet, and moved toward the door again. Stepping outside, she caught sight of a second figure out there. Thankfully, when the door closed, they both remained outside. Kayla looked around at the sigil-covered walls of her new room, and realized that she had no clue how to get herself out of this.


	11. Chapter 10

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Ten**_

_Don't Count the Miles...  
_

Bobby had to run upstairs. His favorite hat was still in his bedroom. The boys were already long gone, having promised to meet Bobby there. _There_ was Granddaddy Winchester's old hidey-hole: the place that soulless-Sam had been working out of with the clan before all had gone to Hell in a handbasket. They needed more books, more research to figure out the solution to Eve. Having exhausted Bobby's vast library, Sam had suggested trying their grandfather's hideaway. Bobby was bringing boxes, and his truck to tote home any volumes he didn't already possess.

But his hat... He needed it. There were only so many things he was willing to do without one. And today called for the beaten-up blue mesh-back, that had come as a third anniversary gift from his wife. Thinking of her always brought back the few days she'd risen from the grave, a few years back. How she'd scolded him for living in a cave; how she was always pulling open curtains and letting light back into his house. He found himself doing just that more and more often.

After he plucked his cap from the hat rack, and jammed it down on his head, he reached out and yanked the curtains back, letting the late autumn sunlight stream through. Just as he was about to turn away, his gaze caught something out of place. Running his fingers along the windowsill, he came up with a fine yellow powder. His heart began to sink as he automatically sniffed the substance to confirm his worst fear. Sulfur.

Sign of a demon's passage.

Dammit. "Kayla..." he muttered, as he yanked his phone out of his pocket and bailed for the truck. Dean's number came up on speed dial, as he locked the house door behind him.

"Dean. We got a problem. I just found sulfur on the windowsill."

* * *

"Yeah, Sammy, I wanna find her and be the knight in shining armor just as much as you do, but we don't have enough to go on." Dean pushed over a pile of boards, sending a cascade of dust and debris falling down. He coughed and waved his hand through the air, waiting for it to clear.

"So, we know demons have been after her a while," Sam mused, picking his way through the boards to the door behind the pile. "They were watching her mother, and now, they've gone and nabbed her. We were supposed to protect her, Dean."

Dean sighed, before stepping back and helping his brother kick in the locked door to the study. "I know, Sammy." It was eating at him as much as it was eating at his brother. To them, Kayla was still an innocent, she didn't know anything, much less enough to save herself from the hands of demons. "Believe me, I know."

"Dean's right, Sam." Bobby gave both brothers a squeeze on the shoulder before he stepped into the study beyond. "All we can do now is wait to see if they give themselves away. Besides, that's one smart girl you picked up; if anyone can find her way outta a bad situation, I'm sure she can." Bobby knew he sounded more positive than he felt. But they needed Sam on his A-Game, not moping about something they couldn't fix just yet. "We tackle this, find ourselves answers to our Eve problem, and then we'll figure out what we can about Kayla. Deal?"

Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck because he couldn't find the right words to express his frustration. "Fine. Deal." Looking around the room that Samuel Winchester had used for a study, he was dismayed to find it bare-walled, and silent. "Look, I know it's gotta be around here somewhere... Help me move this."

* * *

"Well, she's a peach." Dean tried to laugh, but what Castiel's lieutenant had said rattled him. Did he only call on Cass now when he needed help? Was he hurting his angel-friend's attempts to get Heaven back in control of itself? Was his stupid, needy complex going to sabotage the hope for ending the Apocalypse for good? He missed Sam explaining what needed to happen. He missed Castiel's agreement to help out, just so long as he could quickly wrap up a few things elsewhere first. He didn't miss Castiel's hesitation to leave.

"Where's..." He trailed off, unwilling to label her verbally for the moment. He raised a hand, indicating an empty space where had expected to find the fresh-faced girl.

Bobby glanced at Sam, and Sam glanced at Dean. "We, uh... lost her." Dean supplied.

At the dark cloud that passed over the angel's features, Sam jumped in. "Lost isn't the right word. She was... kidnapped. But... Bobby's going to try and find her while we're... y'know.. hunting a phoenix." Cass didn't answer immediately, but looked at each one of them in turn.

"If she is dead, this is on you." He vanished instantly, leaving the three of them alone with their thoughts.

Dean swore loudly.

* * *

She felt like it had been days, but she knew she'd only been hostage a few hours. Someone came in at one point to loosen the ties on her hands for about fifteen minutes. It was Raspy-Breather, and he sat on the edge of the table nearby, watching like a hawk as she flexed her fingers to work blood back into them. Kayla used the opportunity to sit herself up as well. A little of her disorientation faded, but she still felt like her thoughts were muddy and slow. When her time was up, and Raspy-Breather knelt back down to tighten her bonds, it occurred to her far too late that she should have flexed her wrists, to afford herself some attempt at escape.

Raspy-Breather left the room with a wink and a wave, as though he were enjoying keeping her captive. How long would this last? How would she ever be found? She shuddered to think she may end up like the Dugard girl, lost for a decade. Panic rose in her chest to blind any manner of coherent thought, and she started to twist and writhe in her bonds once more. She lost track of how long she kept at it, but her wrists were raw and sticky by the time she was finished. Devastated, drained, she began to weep softly.

At that moment, the door swung open once more. They weren't even bothering to keep it locked. It was Crowley again, carrying a chair this time. Behind him, the raspy-breather carried a tray with two glasses and a bottle of scotch. Crowley set the chair down, and his servant placed the tray nearby, before scuttling out backwards. He lowered himself into the chair, and poured a glass of scotch before he ever looked in Kayla's direction.

"Oh, Poppet," he began, mock sympathy dripping from his voice. Leaning forward, he tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her head. Kayla couldn't stop the tears running down her face if she tried, but he whipped out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed lightly at her face. "No need to cry. No need at all. What say you and me, we make a deal, eh?"

"A deal?" She repeated the word numbly, not certain what he meant.

Crowley's face crinkled into a smile; as before the expression never touched his eyes, leaving him cold and calculating while he pretended to be nice. "Exactly. See, you are going to be coming between me, and some very important property of mine, in the near future. I need you as... Well, can I call you my insurance policy?"

Kayla stared blankly at him, blinking owlishly in confusion. Crowley let her face go, sitting back, while he sipped his scotch. "Damnation, those things really work, don't they?" Grumbling to himself, he got to his feet and moved slowly around the room, inspecting the sigils painted on the walls. When he finally found the one he was looking for, he pressed his hand flat against it, and the paint bubbled until it peeled away in great strips.

Kayla, who had been watching him the entire time, suddenly felt a great pressure lift from her mind. The bottleneck that had kept her thoughts from moving quickly was suddenly undone, and she winced against the sudden glut of information that came crashing through. Crowley gave her a few minutes to process, returning to his seat slowly. This time, he poured the second glass a few fingers of scotch, in preparation for the deal about to go down.

Kayla glanced at the blackened wall while her thoughts forced themselves into order. Those sigils were why she couldn't leave, came the rationalization. Angel-proofing, as Mr. Singer had referred to it. As her gaze shifted to Crowley, the pieces began to fall into place.

"You're supposed to be dead, aren't you?" She asked finally.

"And a Kewpie doll for the brilliant young lady!" Crowley crowed, lifting his glass in a toast. "I am. And that's a secret you're going to keep for me."

"What says I keep it?" Kayla countered. She knew she was arguing from a weak position, tied up, sitting on the floor. But since her ankles were tied she couldn't get to her feet to put herself on more even ground.

"Mmm, just that I hold your life in the palm of my hand right now." Again, that lifeless smile flitted across his face. "You want to live, you keep my secret. You want your precious new friends to live, you help me out."

"Help you how?" Kayla wondered if he was bluffing. Maybe he'd be going after Sam and Dean anyway. Isn't that what they said the demons did? She bit the inside of her lip lightly as Crowley leaned forward once more.

"Sometime soon, there is going to be a door opened. A door to a very special place. Your dirty-winged angel will try to find a way to avoid that. Your job is to make him open that door. No matter what. You do that, the giraffe and his Neanderthal brother are safe from me and mine."

"And if I can't?" Kayla's voice betrayed her fear, shaking as she spoke even though she wanted to pretend she was strong. She wondered if he could melt flesh like he had melted the paint.

Crowley tapped her on the nose with one finger, causing her to flinch away from him. He laughed at her reaction, enjoyed that his display had curried the exact amount of fear from her. He leaned down close enough that she could smell the alcohol on his breath. "I own you."

Kayla tried to lean away from him, but her bound hands made it difficult to keep her balance. She had to think fast. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find something inspiring to help her get out of the dire situation.

"Clocks ticking, Poppet." Crowley purred, getting a little closer. "Tick tock... tick tock... I won't leave the offer on the table forever."

Kayla grasped at mental straws. "Include me, and my family too!" She blurted out suddenly. "If I.. if I get Cass to open this door, if I do this... me and my family are safe too, just like the brothers! Forever!"

Crowley tipped his head to one side, considering. Then he shrugged. "If that's what it takes." Tossing back the rest of his scotch, he waved one hand nonchalantly and suddenly, Kayla's bonds were freed. Shaking her wrists out of the ropes, she got to her feet quickly. "Toast. And then, we'll seal the deal." Crowley offered her the other glass of scotch, after refilling his own.

Kayla touched the raw skin left behind by her struggles before she accepted the scotch. Crowley clinked his glass against hers, and winked at her.

"The future, my dear, is looking bright." He toasted, conspiratorially. With that, he tossed back his own drink; Kayla following suit a few moments later. She coughed at the strength of the scotch, and held her breath for a second while it traced a line of fire down her throat. Giving herself a shake, she held out her right hand, waiting for the handshake that would seal the deal.

Crowley laughed, and grabbed her arm up by the elbow. "Oh, no, dear child. Haven't you ever heard the term _sealed with a kiss_?" Kayla started to pull away, but his hand was like an iron cuff. He pulled her ever closer, wearing an evil little smile that, for the first time, glimmered as real delight in his eyes. "That's it." He soothed, as she slowly stopped resisting. Folding her up inside his arms, Crowley leaned down and breathed her scent in. No matter what, he figured he was making a good deal. Either he got souls from Purgatory, or he owned the soul of a nephilim.

Kayla screwed her eyes shut, and tried to pretend that something nice was about to happen. But she could only smell the alcohol, mixed with sulfur and the acrid burn of brimstone. Tears slid silently down her face as she lifted her lips to meet his, and in one long, drawn out eternity of heartbeats, she sealed her deal with the devil.

* * *

"Pray for me in twenty-four hours."

Bobby nodded, but Cass had already gone. With a thought the angel was halfway across the United States, descending upon the base of the one being he knew had something to do with all of this. He allowed the other angelic communications to filter through his mind, keeping partial track on the latest in a long line of skirmishes. If he was desperately needed, he would have to attend, but at this moment, Rachel and the others were holding their own. It was well enough that they were occupied, as his destination was not the most angel-friendly in the waking world.

Crowley jumped a mile when Cass banged his hand down on the desk between them.

"Don't you angels ever knock?" The demon huffed softly, and set down his glass of scotch before the angel could notice his hands shaking. "I mean, a little common courtesy between business partners..."

"Courtesy does not mean kidnapping on my allies." Castiel growled. "Where is she?"

"Who?" Crowley feigned innocence, quite cheerfully. But his cheer faded as Castiel leaned down close to him, with the intense look of someone about to commit murder written all over his face. Crowley weighed his options, and wondered just how close to the edge the angel was toeing the line these days.

Castiel didn't even need to draw a breath. The old scent of books, and secrets clung to Crowley's skin like a miasma. "I can smell her all over you. Where. Is. She?"

Crowley edged his chair away from the desk, trying to put some distance between the angry angel and his own personal space. Swallowing his first automatic denial of any involvement in anything, he reconsidered. He already had the girl's deal sealed, so he didn't really _need_ to keep her captive the entire time. What was a deal without a sporting chance of success, after all? Getting to his feet, he put his hand out, palm down, about a foot shorter than himself.

"About yay-tall? Dark hair?" Crowley stalled for time, wondering just how he'd get out of this. If Castiel knew about the insurance policy he'd just extracted, then everything would change. Castiel's head tilted to one side, and that was the last warning Crowley needed. Throwing out a hand, he pointed to a door just on the end of the room, and then he tried to smile encouragement to the angel. "Just through there, my fine feathered fie- friend."

Castiel threw the door open without touching it, but stopped cold at the threshold. Crowley allowed himself a small smile of triumph, the angel-proofing sigils still kept the unwanted out, and the prisoners inside. Crowley's triumph didn't last long, as Castiel was suddenly upon him. The angel curled his fist into Crowley's shirt, hauling the demon around to crab-walk him toward the door.

"Let her out, or I find another demon to wrap in the mantel of your supposed power."

"You don't have the balls," Crowley countered, forcing Castiel's hand loose from his shirt. Smoothing his tie down, and fixing his lapels, Crowley poised just inside the door for a few moments, facing out, facing the angry angel from the safety of the sigil-scribed room. The challenge resulted in a silent staredown between them, as Crowley tried to determine if Castiel would replace him or not. Finally, seeing the uncompromising anger in his business associate, Crowley chose to cut his losses, instead of pushing the envelope. Laying his hand against the wall, he concentrated for a few moments.

The walls glowed momentarily red, as the paint bubbled and boiled right off the walls, disrupting the sigils and allowing Castiel entrance to the small room. Cass was instantly beside the inert form in the center of the room, running his hands over her arms lightly to check her for injuries. There were inconsistencies, but nothing majorly wrong with her. Cass looked up once to see Crowley watching them both from the doorway. Glaring at the self-appointed King of Hell, Cass gathered Kayla up into his arms, and promptly vanished with her.

He couldn't bring her instantly back to Bobby's house. Instead, he sought out somewhere quiet, and peaceful, to assess the damage that had been done. He ended up laying her gently down upon a sandy beach, somewhere in the Caribbean. It was remote; it was deserted. It would suit his purposes quite nicely. His first matter of business was to tend her wounds.

She had a nasty lump on the side of her head, probably a concussion as well. He fixed that first, hoping she would wake up shortly. He wasn't disappointed: as he untangled his fingers from her thick hair, her eyes fluttered open. With a little cry, she sat bolt upright, and tried to back away from him. Cass grabbed her hands before she could get too far, holding her firmly in place. He let his Grace speak for him, releasing it slowly into her skin, so the raw, red rope burns around her wrists would heal without scar or discomfort.

As her skin knitted back together, her eyes came into focus, staring at him with such intensity he thought he may burst into flames. He waited for her next move, unwilling to break the tenuous silence that stretched between them. He half-expected tears, or maybe a rambling rant of some sort. But the catatonic silence was new, and unusual. She turned a little green at the edges, and suddenly lurched to her feet.

Castiel let her scramble about a dozen steps away from him before she fell to her knees and began to retch. They were dry heaves, coming from the very core of her being, but her stomach was empty after her captivity. She continued for a few moments in that fashion, until she spat a small gobbet of black fluid out. It hit the sand with a splatter, and proceeded to evaporate in a trail of black smoke. That caught his attention, and it had the stink of Crowley all about it.

Cass moved through the soft sand to loop an arm around her shoulders, and gently lead her away from that spot. He guided her to a small shady place beside a palm coconut, helped her lean against its smooth trunk, before he lowered himself to the ground beside her, facing her. Laying a hand on her knee, he patted her lightly, awkwardly.

"Do you feel better, now?" he tried to sound as gentle as possible. Garnering fear in the nephil would do him no good in the long run. When she nodded, mutely, still a little green at the edges, he felt a slight sigh filter through the guarded expression. "Kayla, I need to know what he said to you. What he did. Can you tell me?"

"He made me promise him..." Kayla whispered it, and Cass edged a little closer. "You have to open the door, Cass. You have to, or... he'll kill them."

"Kill who?"

"All of them.. my family... Sam... Dean..." Kayla sniffled slightly, fighting back the urge to break down. She needed to be stronger than this whimpering crybaby. She sucked down a deep breath of air, and tried to focus on the ocean to help her calm down. But instead of the ocean, her eyes found a tall, stately woman, with dirty-blond hair watching them. Kayla's hand grasped for Cass', but he had already risen and turned to face the newcomer.

He greeted her with a slight nod of his head. "Rachel."


	12. Chapter 11

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Eleven**_

_The Skin of Our Teeth_

"We need to talk." Rachel's voice was pleasant to hear, but her eyes were like ice. "It's true. You have a pet nephilim." She was hurt; she let it show in her voice, her mannerism. "I was hoping the rumors weren't true."

"What rumors?" Cass questioned. He made a motion with his hand, indicating Kayla to stay down, and stay quiet. It wasn't going to be too hard to do, she decided. The angel facing off with Cass gave her the heebie-jeebies.

Rachel gestured vehemently to Kayla curled up at the base of the tree. "If this one is true, what of all the others? Your dirty little secrets. What are you becoming, Castiel?"

Castiel's hands curled into fists; he shook his head slowly. "You can't understand, Rachel. I have to defeat Raphael."

She took a few steps forward, moving slowly in the deep, soft sand. "There has to be another way. We can find another way." She was practically begging, pleading with Cass as he stood stoically in her way. "Please?"

Cass shook his head again. "I have no choice."

"Then neither do I." Rachel closed her eyes, and lowered her face from looking up at him. She steeled herself against feeling regret for her actions, and squared her shoulders unconsciously. Behind him, Kayla gave an involuntary cry of surprise as the silvered blade slid into Rachel's waiting hand from within her sleeve. It was just enough warning for Cass, as he managed to twist out of the worst of the thrust.

The angelic blade missed it's mark of plunging deep into his chest; instead he was speared just below his ribs, clean through the right side. White-hot agony, like nothing he'd ever known before, erupted from the blade and nearly shut down his ability to think. But instincts prevailed, and he grabbed Rachel's sword-hand, forcing her to pull the blade from his side. Swinging, he caught her across the face with a backhanded blow, sending her reeling into the sand.

Pressing his hand tightly against his side, he focused, letting his own blade slide into his free hand. He had trained Rachel himself; she was good with the blade, perhaps even exceptional. She shook sand out of her face, and came at him once more. Their blades locked for a moment, until she used her advantage. Swinging her fist up, she cracked him a good one in the jaw, sending him reeling. As their sword arms disengaged, she aimed a kick at his wrist, burying her heel into his tendons. His fingers gone numb, Castiel dropped his blade.

As Rachel straightened up, spinning her blade around in her hand to deliver the final blow, something blurred between them. Kayla had snatched up Cass' fallen blade, and put herself between the two warring angels. The silvered, angelic blade was light and unfamiliar in her hand, but it responded beautifully to her grip. She caught Rachel's descending blade overhead, letting the two swords slide along each other until Rachel's wrist was close enough for Kayla to grab.

"No!" Rachel growled out, angry that she had been denied her duty by an abomination. "Fine. I'll just kill you first!"

Kayla started to bend backward under the pressure from the taller woman. "Good luck with that," she muttered, before bringing her knee up hard into Rachel's stomach. It wasn't the pain of the blow that so much registered, but the sudden lack of air in her lungs that caused Rachel to stagger a little. Kayla kept pressing forward, getting Rachel further and further away from her main target. With each stroke and counterstroke, she became more comfortable with the weight and heft of the blade. Until finally, she found her opportunity.

Spinning to avoid a thrust by the angel, Kayla reversed the blade in her hand, and swept out with a backhanded thrust. Her shorter stature allowed her to slide right beneath Rachel's arm, and as Kayla's path took her around, the angelic blade entered an inch beside Rachel's spine, buried by momentum right up to the guard.

Rachel blinked twice, looking straight at Castiel, before her eyes filled with white light. Kayla wouldn't turn around as Rachel fell to her knees, and then flat upon the ground. After a few moments, the blinding white light of Rachel's Grace faded, leaving behind the ashen outline of wings on the white sand. Castiel staggered to his feet, releasing the hand clamped over his side for a moment to assess the damage. It wasn't the scarlet leaking from his vessel that worried him, it was the pale white glow of his Grace slipping away.

He paused beside Rachel long enough to retrieve both his blade, and her own. He touched her forehead, her heart, and each of her shoulders once, offering a quiet apology to his former lieutenant. A few slipping steps later, he dropped to his knees next to Kayla, who remained taut as a bowstring, standing beside him.

"Kayla?"

His voice snapped her out of where ever her mind was. As soon as she looked down, she spotted the scarlet dripping down his front. "Oh God! What do I do?" She pressed her hand against the wound, applying pressure even as Castiel groaned in pain.

"Just... hold onto me..." He closed his arms around her, taking care not to nick her with one of the two blades he held in his fist. He closed his eyes, laying his head on Kayla's shoulder gratefully, as he gathered up the last handfuls of power in order to take them...

Home.

* * *

"Bobby?" Kayla called out for him as Cass pulled away from her. He managed three steps to the kitchen cabinets, and nearly fell. Bobby came running in from the study, just in time to see Cass draw a symbol on the closest cabinet. Kayla was trying to help him up, but couldn't succeed on her own. Bobby grabbed Cass' other arm and tried to haul him to his feet.

"Cass, what the hell happened?" Bobby demanded. "Kayla dammit, girl, help me get him in the other room..." Cass made a motion with his hand, but couldn't find a word to say. "We runnin', fightin', what?"

Kayla's grip slipped as Cass became sudden dead weight in their hands. She swore, and narrowly avoided getting skewered by the dropped angel blades. Swearing and growling, Bobby got Cass up onto the couch by himself. When he straightened, Kayla was standing beside him, holding both of the angel blades close to her chest.

"He saved me, Bobby... he saved me, and he got hurt..."

Bobby gently began to disarm her, taking the blades and laying them on his desk. Kayla stood, shivering, looking down at Castiel's prone form as though she could stare him back into health. Taking her by the shoulders, he gently suggested that she go upstairs and get some sleep.

"No, I want to stay here." She resisted, and Bobby felt a pang of sympathy for her. Who knew what she'd been through at the hands of demons? And to have an angel come to her rescue... Bobby heaved a sigh and grabbed a chair, dragging it around to set beside the couch. With a gentle push, he got her to sit down, and she automatically folded up into it, drawing her feet up beside her.

When Bobby came back downstairs with a blanket for the girl, she had maneuvered so she could reach out with her bloody hand and hold onto Castiel's bloodied hand. She stirred only enough to give him a grateful smile as he draped the blanket over her shoulders. Glancing at the timer on his desk, he scowled to see only nine hours remaining.

"Balls."

* * *

She was in a white, featureless room. But the white was warm, with yellow and gold undertones that make her feel comfortable, and welcomed. Nothing hurt here, though. The little aches and bruises that she'd gained over the past weeks were a thing of memory. Even though she wasn't sure where the room was, she wasn't afraid. Not in the least bit.

"Kayla." It was Castiel's voice, from behind her. Spinning in place, she allowed herself to show the joy and relief that flooded her. He was whole, and hale. The white light of the room took on an even warmer hue, flushing pale pink at the edges of her vision. She ran forward, closing the distance between them in a few quick strides. Automatically, she raised her hand, and touched him, flattening the fabric of his shirt against his ribs as though to check on his wound.

"You're okay!" She exclaimed. "I was so scar-"

Cass covered her hand with his before she could pull away, the warmth of his touch causing her train of thought to interrupt. "I will be. We're dreaming right now, Kayla. It may be the only way you and I can talk privately." She thought she saw a ghost of a smile flicker across his lips; the expression added a new layer of depth to his face. She opened her mouth to say something, but he shook his head. "Let me finish, just this once. And then you can tell me everything you're thinking." When she nodded and closed her mouth, he felt he could continue. "You didn't need to do that. You didn't need to step in against Rachel. But thank you. It could have ended badly for me."

Kayla let out a quiet, nervous laugh. Castiel still hadn't released her hand. "You're... welcome," she hesitantly answered. "I was scared that she'd kill you, and then I wouldn't be able to help you open that door, and then that Crowley thing would own me..."

The barely-there smile faded from Castiel's face. "Own you?"

She nodded slowly. "The door thing... I get you to open it; everyone's safe. I fail... I'm his." She shuddered in the memory of what happened, and took an instinctive step forward, letting her arms slide around his waist. Castiel didn't react as she leaned her face against his chest, and closed her eyes. She still felt slimy, but at least being beside the angel she felt redeemable.

Finally, Castiel raised his hands to her shoulders, and gently pushed her one step back away from him. "You have nothing to fear. I am still opening the Door. I am afraid that you alone are not strong enough to win this war for me."

Kayla stepped further away from him as he said that. The warm light of her dreamscape was fading into nighttime hues, cooler, softer, reflecting her slowly darkening mood. Cass was sure she was unconsciously projecting her moods; in the fading light he could see the ghostly outlines of trees as they began to take shape. He took a few steps toward her, through the smoky visage of a half-formed tree.

"Kayla?"

"It's funny," she didn't look up at him when she answered, just sort of kept her eyes on her feet. "I'm upset at myself because I'm not what you expected me to be. I'm angry that I can't be this super-powerful, crazy machine of destruction like you expect me to be. But I should be happy about that." She turned abruptly to face him, a distance of six steps separating them now. "Someone would have killed me if I had been... like that. Either you, or your friend... or even the brothers."

Cass nodded slowly. He couldn't, and wouldn't argue with any of her points. Instead, he tried a different tact. "Your father did you both a service, and a disservice when he bound you. I spoke to Menlo as well. He told me that Bobby had summoned him, and that he told you of your father."

Kayla got quiet again, and began to walk once more. Cass, knowing this was a dream, took one step and fell into pace beside her. She barely looked up at him, her mind on other things in other places. The world was slowly taking on a firmer shape around them, as they walked side by side on the centerline of a paved road. The trees grew into a dark mass on either side.

"Did you know him? As an angel?"

"No. I'm sorry." Castiel frowned thoughtfully. "I knew _of _him. Only after he had been forgiven his transgressions. He was a psychopomp, and he brought visions to the faithful. Because he knew Father's mercy, he brought hope, that all others would in time, be forgiven as well."

Kayla stopped walking, and turned slightly to face the far side of the road. A few moments later, Castiel stopped as well, watching her. As she stared at the spot, a ghostly car came driving from up ahead; around them, the trees bent and creaked in a savage wind, and rain lashed at the road. Nothing touched either of them. The world was eerily silent as lightning flashed, and one great tree gave up it's fight against the wind. It fell in slow motion, until it lay directly across the road, branches smashed up, the guard rail on the opposite side bend and mangled beneath it's limbs. The ghostly car saw the tree a second too late, and swerved, losing control. In one moment, it was over. The car crashed through the guardrail, into the mess of limbs, and skidded to a complete halt.

Kayla moved quietly to the edge, to the broken guardrail, and looked down at the young version of herself, lying on the ground.

"I wish I remembered him. What he sounded like. What he felt like." She glanced up at Cass, who took a step closer and joined her over the silent tableau. "Maybe if I did, I'd be... more useful to you."

The dream wavered, like a projection on a sheet, before it began to fade. Cass looked around, and frowned softly. "You are useful, just the way you are." He laid a hand upon her shoulder, leaning down to her ear. As he whispered to her, she pressed her cheek against the stubble of his face, closing her eyes. Castiel hesitated before drawing away, holding her still with one gentle hand, while he straightened back up. "Do you understand?"

She nodded, her eyes like neon beacons for a moment.

"Good. Then it's time for you to wake up. Bobby's getting worried." Cass allowed himself that ghostly smile one last time, before she and her dreamscape faded completely.

* * *

"Good lord, child, you tryin' to give me a heart attack?" Bobby nearly fell back on his ass when Kayla opened her eyes suddenly. He had a large bowl by his side, filled with pink water, and a rag in his hands. He'd been cleaning blood from her hands, and face, Castiel's blood. She leaned in to steal the rag and managed to plant a quick kiss on his bearded cheek while she was at it.

"I'm sorry," she offered, starting to unfold herself from her chair. "I was... dreaming.. it was kinda nice." Bobby straightened and moved out of her way, as she shifted herself from the chair to the edge of the couch, perching just beside Castiel's quiescent vessel. Bobby took her vacant seat, and watched while she continued the job that he'd started.

"Just what the hell happened?" He forgot his manners in his worry, and fairly barked the question out. She glanced at him as she finished wiping her own hand off, before bending in double to rinse the rag.

"I'm really not sure," she admitted softly. "Cass found me, where ever I was, and took me someplace safe..." She picked up Castiel's hand, and carefully began to wash the dried blood from his fingers. "While we were there, while I was... pretty much freaking out... this lady shows up out of nowhere, and she just starts a fight."

"Any idea who she was?" Bobby didn't feel like he was getting the whole story. She wouldn't look at him as she talked, as though she were afraid to let him see what she was really thinking. Kayla moved from Cass' hands, to getting the few spots on his face. But she shook her head to indicate that she didn't know who attacked them. Beneath the blood, no traces of any wounds existed.

She shifted her eyes to indicate the two weapons set neatly to one side. "She had one of those."

Bobby followed her gaze, and sighed. "So an angel. That narrows it down a bit."

Kayla twisted to drop the rag back into the bowl, taking a moment to look at Bobby as seriously as she could. "I need to learn to fight back... I nee-" Blinking, she glanced around at the quiet house. "Wait... where're Sam 'n Dean?"

Bobby sighed, and rolled his eyes. "About a hundred and fifty years in the past. And I need flyboy there up in... oh, an hour, to bring them back."

Kayla looked at him blankly for a moment, processing that little bit of information. As she tried to figure out something to say, Castiel sat up abruptly, one hand automatically pressing against his side. Kayla managed to react first, catching him by the shoulders, and steadying him.

"Hey, you," she offered with a smile. Moving over, she let him swing his feet down. Cass slumped forward, elbows on his knees, head hanging for a few moments.

Bobby waited expectantly. "Well?" he finally prompted. "I got the abridged version so far..."

Cass glanced at Kayla just once, to assure himself that she would not betray his confidence. "Rachel... she betrayed me..."

Bobby let out a breath of air unconsciously. "I take it she's dead?" Cass nodded, and Kayla bit her lower lip. She was keeping her mouth shut about something. "And the boys? We have less than an hour now."

Cass furrowed his brow, and looked once more at Kayla.

"I'm ready when you are." Her ready agreement to whatever they had planned got Bobby wondering. They hadn't had any time to talk while they were here, and their flight into the room had seemed to hurried and frantic to allow the time elsewhere. So how'd she know what he was asking of her?

"Bobby, you'll need rope." Cass tried to get to his feet with a groan, only to be pushed back down onto the couch as Bobby stood up.

The hunter pointed a finger at each of them in turn. "One 'a you is gonna explain to me what's about to happen before anything happens..." He turned and stepped outside to fetch rope before anyone could answer him further. When he returned, Kayla had returned to the seat, but pulled it around so she was directly facing the couch.

Cass had slipped from the couch, and was kneeling in front of her, speaking in quiet tones. The angel looked up at Bobby approached. "You need to tie her securely."

"Not until you tell me what's gonna happen." Bobby coiled and uncoiled the rope in his hands. He glanced at the timer, hoping this wouldn't take more than twenty minutes.

Cass sighed. "Human souls are pure energy. I can... borrow that power, bring the brothers back home. Hopefully."

Bobby's eyes narrowed. "So why Kayla?" He understood the ropes now, if Castiel was looking to do his soul-touching trick; this wasn't going to be pleasant for Kayla.

"Because I'm supposed to super-powerful, remember?" Kayla cracked a grin, doing her best to make light of the situation. "And maybe... Cass can figure out what's wrong with me, and why I'm not..."

As he looped the first length of rope around her shoulders, Bobby paused to look Kayla in the eye. She met his gaze without a flinch this time. "You know this is gonna hurt like nothing you've ever felt before, right?" When she nodded, he fed rope around the arm rests to keep her arms down. "Idjit."

Cass managed to get himself standing by the time Bobby had finished. He rolled his sleeves up while Kayla watched, and took an unsteady step forward. Steadying himself with one hand on her shoulder, Cass leaned down and flexed the fingers of his right hand.

"Ready?"

"Yeah." Her answer came out as a whimper. She wanted to look away, but he held her gaze tightly. Gooseflesh sprouted, and spread across her skin as Castiel's fingertips rested against her stomach.

"I'm sorry," he whispered softly as he pushed through the boundaries of her corporeal being.

* * *

He found her soul almost instantly. Even though he was conscious of his vessel's eyes staring into hers, he could no longer see, or hear what was happening beyond the boundaries of his being, and her soul. As soon as his fingers cupped the brilliantly glowing ball of energy pulsing inside her, he knew something was horribly wrong. It resisted him, eddied away from him as he opened himself to drink of its power. He couldn't afford to chase it.

His vessel mimicked his actions, putting a voice behind the feeling of welcome, and acceptance. He called to her, tried to soothe her as she screamed in mortal agony. Her soul touched his outstretched being, danced across the surface as if deciding to heed his call or not. And finally, she stopped fighting, coming to rest secure in his grasp.

He closed his hand around it. At first, it felt completely human, hot to the touch, bounding with limitless energy and potential. But after a few moments of siphoning off the power, Cass felt the first traces of Grace deep within. With only seconds to trace it, he found a tear in a boundary of blood-soaked cloth.

It was too much, too fast. Without any choice, he had to release Kayla's soul, and take a step back, pulling his hand from within her as he moved. Before the power could ebb away from him, he threw himself back through time, snatched up Sam and Dean, and slingshot them back to the present day. With a sickening sense of accomplishment, he fell back onto the couch, mind reeling.


	13. Chapter 12

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Twelve**_

_Misstep_

"You've gotta send us back!" Dean lurched to his feet with an empty bottle in hand, only to be stopped a step later by Bobby's outstretched arm.

"Dean, he can't. He's out... wiped..." Bobby's voice was a soft warning, telling the boy to step down. Dean swore, and chucked his cowboy hat to the ground, pacing a short distance before turning back around, mouth open to start up on a tirade once more.

It was Sam who beat him to the punch. "What the-? Why the hell is Kayla tied up?" The younger Winchester dropped to his knees beside her, tracing the ropes to find the knots that held her tight. She breathed shallowly, her head slumped forward. As Sam freed her from the ropes, Castiel edged forward slowly on the couch, until he could reach out and touch her hands with his. He never wanted to subject either of them to that trauma again.

Sam loosened the last knots, just as Kayla's eyes fluttered open. She took a second to focus on Castiel's face, before glancing to her side to see Sam. A warm smile spread across her face, and she nodded slightly, letting Sam know she was fine. Cass felt her fingers squeeze upon his, and knew he was forgiven for causing her so much pain. She got to her feet long enough to decide that wasn't a good idea, and managed to turn herself around so she could collapse on the couch beside the angel. Cass started to edge over to give her more room, but she laid her head on his shoulder, stopping him midmotion.

Cass looked up, wide-eyed and confused, to find the Winchesters and Singer watching him. Dean smirked and elbowed his brother.

"And here I thought she had a thing for giants... Looks like she goes for feathers." Dean chortled, trying to take his mind off the empty bottle on the counter. Just as he was about to get back to business, just as Sam picked up that same bottle, the doorbell rang. Sam fixed Cass with a look before he ducked out with Bobby to answer the door.

Dean gestured to Kayla half-heartedly. "She gonna be okay?"

Cass didn't answer; he couldn't answer for her. Kayla moved against his shoulder, nodding slightly. "I'll be fine, as soon as my guts stop playing Bouncy House." She lifted a hand to poke lazily at Castiel's arm. "You may want to rethink the _this may not be pleasant_ line..."

Cass blinked, trying to look down at Kayla before turning a helpless expression to Dean. Dean gave the chair a shake to knock the last few coils of rope to the floor before he sat in it.

"Just what happened?" he pushed, raising a brow at Cass.

Kayla waited a moment for Castiel to give him the answer, and in that span discovered that she was making the angel uncomfortable. Rolling her head off his shoulder, she leaned it back against the couch, effectively freeing him. "He played hockey with my soul," she mumbled.

"What?" Dean coughed, a very unwanted, and unholy image popping into his head. At that moment, Sam poked his head around the wall, calling for his brother's attention. "What?" Dean repeated, this time pushing himself halfway around in the chair.

When Sam held up a dusty bottle, filled with some kind of gray powder, Dean blinked, squinted, and then let out an explosive sigh. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Special delivery from 1861..."

* * *

"So now we wait again?" Kayla held the bottle delicately in her turn. It was far heavier than she had expected it to be, but she wasn't sure if it was due to the bottle itself or the contents. Handing it back to Dean, she wiped her fingers off on her shorts unconsciously.

"Yeah, until Cass comes up with some kind of location, or something." Sam watched as Kayla shifted uneasily from foot to foot. She was watching Dean as he set out the materials to load shotgun shells. "Y'know, why don't you get changed or something, and I can give you a few lessons... just in case.."

Tearing her eyes away from Dean, Kayla blinked twice, and processed what Sam was asking. "Yeah. Changed." She tugged on the edge of her tank top and heaved a sigh. "I'll be right down."

Sam watched her climb the stairs, before turning away. Glancing at his brother, he decided not to bother Dean, and instead skirted the study to join Bobby in the kitchen. Bobby held out the 12-gauge and a box of shells, as soon as Sam crossed the threshold.

"It ain't a bad idea, getting some practice in with her. Who knows what's gonna go down when we finally find Mom." Bobby nodded his support, in response to Sam's mumbled thanks.

"Do you really think she's okay?" Sam asked suddenly, leaning the shotgun down against the counter, and setting the shells atop. "I mean, she was just kidnapped by a demon; she can't tell us what it wanted, or what it did to her while it had her. We didn't know until it was too late, and Cass had to end up rescuing her. Dean and I promised we'd be able to protect her."

Bobby sighed, stuck his fingers under his cap to scratch at his head a little while he pondered that one. "Son, the way I see it, there're two kinds of people in this world: those who protect, and those who need to be protected. We just gotta teach her to be the first kind, so she can look out for herself."

Sam pulled a shell out of the box, and turned it slowly in his hands. On some levels he agreed with Bobby's assessment of people, but he also worried about shattering that refreshing innocent quality Kayla had. Even after less than three days in their presence, her brightness had been dulled somewhat. It was never more apparent than today. Hearing her trotting down the stairs, he took care to wipe the pensive expression from his face, and picked up the shotgun again. He met her by the door, and was relieved to see her looking marginally better. At least she was smiling at him again.

He held out the gun for her, indicating how she should hold it for now. As she accepted it from him, he launched into his lesson. "This is a Winchester 12-gauge, pump-action shotgun. It's modified, meant for fast firing... Spray-n-pray.." Sam suddenly stopped and blinked, looking down at himself for a few moments.

Kayla waited for the rest of the lesson, but when it didn't come, she leaned forward slightly. "Sam? You okay?"

The corner of Sam's mouth quirked into a smile, and he let out a soft, almost sad chuckle. "I sound like my dad."

Kayla waited for more, again, but Sam shook himself to break out of that line of thought. With a push, he held the back door open for her, escorting her out into the junkyard. Once the fresh, crisp air hit him, his senses cleared again, and he was able to start back in on his lesson.

"Until we get a chance to teach you on the other guns, you can consider this one yours... "

* * *

"How's Annie Oakley doing?" Bobby had followed the sounds of gunfire down to the back of the lot, where Kayla was getting comfortable with the pump-action. Sam was sitting on the hood of a rusted-out Pinto, beside him were lines of empty shells, collected from the ground after each of Kayla's four-round bursts. It wasn't a waste, as far as he was concerned, they'd reload each shell with rock salt when Dean was done with the press. He'd already considered it to be their next lesson.

"She's a quick study. Picks up on it faster than anything I've seen." Sam commented, moving over a little so Bobby could have a seat as well. His eyes followed Kayla as she checked to be sure the gun was empty, before leaning it up against a tire, and heading down-range to reset her hubcap targets once more.

"She should be." Bobby grunted as he took a spot beside Sam. "Been doin' some reading on her dearly departed daddy."

"Oh?" Sam glanced away from Kayla then, genuinely interested in what Bobby had to say.

"Yup. Seems like he was a real hoarder of info as far as angels go. A keeper of forgotten lore, as it were. He did visitations and stuff like that too, but his main thing was secrets. He gathered 'em, and kept 'em."

A clatter of sound brought Sam's eyes back to Kayla. She had attempted to set one of the targets higher than the others, but it had fallen as she climbed back down the pile of old cars. She ran a few steps to retrieve it before starting up the climb once more. Satisfied she was safe, Sam looked back at Bobby. "And what's that mean for her?"

"I dunno." Bobby admitted with a shrug. "But whatever it means, we can't rule it out as a reason that everybody'd be after her. Maybe she's got some sort of cosmic memory stored in there that could be bad if it got out." Both of them mulled that thought over for a few moments, watching Kayla as she climbed back down from the pile a second time. As she hit the ground, she spied Bobby had joined Sam, and offered a cheerful wave, before headed over.

Bobby cut off whatever question she had about to surface, by gesturing back to the house. "Dean's about done. It's high time we found out where we're at."

On the way back in, Sam showed Kayla where to store the shells until they were ready to reload them. She leaned the gun in the corner of the hallway, and joined the rest in the study where Dean had been working diligently.

"I got five shells. That's it." Dean muttered, looking up from the press.

"Think it'll be enough?" Sam's natural worry came out through the question. Five shells for four of them. The math didn't work out well.

"It's gonna have to be," Bobby countered. He didn't manage to sound optimistic, but it was the best he could do.

"Maybe." Dean muttered.

"Maybe?" Kayla added her voice to the chorused echo. She reached out to pick up the now empty bottle. Yeah, the bottle was surprisingly light, which meant the phoenix ash had been ridiculously dense.

"Maybe meaning..." Dean cut himself off, instead working with a demonstration. Dipping his finger into the small cup of remaining ash, he rubbed it on his skin.

Kayla could feel the tension rising in the room. Dean felt like he would nearly burst with the stress, and Sam's explosive sigh just hid the fear that everything would be for naught. She tried desperately to find something clever and insightful to say, something to break the tension. But it was Sam who found the words first.

"Maybe it's like iron, or silver... works on them, but not on us?" The first glimmer of hope flickered through the room, and Kayla latched onto it, for fear it die terribly.

"Do we have any idea where to find her?" she piped up, but immediately bit her lip, uncertain if she should have spoken, or even included herself in that thought.

"Not a clue." Dean thumped the chair into place as he stood up to stretch. "I can hear, Bobby; those phones have been dead silent today." Three steps brought him into the kitchen, where he pulled four shot glasses down from the cupboard. "We need to take the fight to her. We gotta find where she is." He poured a shot of whiskey for each of them, filling three to the brim, but only pouring half one for Kayla.

He gave the nephil a meaningful look as she opened her mouth to protest the lack of liquid in her glass. Wisely, she shut her mouth and held it delicately between two fingers, waiting for all the others to be armed with alcohol.

"Maybe it's time to call Cass." Bobby supplied before tossing back his shot.

Dean immediately looked like he swallowed something sour and nasty, only to chase it with his own shot of whiskey. "Why does it always have to be me? It's not like Cass lives in my ass!"

Kayla almost choked on her shot as Castiel appeared behind Dean at that very moment. She barely managed to swallow it, half-coughing, half-laughing, as Dean jumped with the realization that Cass was standing so close by.

"Jeeze, Cass! Personal space... remember what we talked about?" Dean's shotglass clattered on the counter, as he sidestepped away from the angel.

Cass just looked confused as Dean moved away from him, putting the counter between himself and the angel. "But... I..." Castiel tried to find words, but they escaped him, as they always seemed to when he was uncertain of what to do. Dean shot him a glare, while he poured another shot of whiskey for himself. _Right_, Cass realized. _Back to business. _"Have you found her?"

Sam swore softly. Dean did so more loudly. "Dammit. No, we were hoping you had."

Castiel frowned so intently that his face hurt, then he took a long, slow breath, digging deep into his well of patience and holding on. "No. She's hidden from me. From all angels."

"So where does that put us now?" Bobby took his hat off, smoothed back his hair, and pulled his hat back down.

Kayla watched as the three of them settled into a strange sort of brainstorming session. Across the room, she caught Castiel watching her. Dropping her gaze, she could hear the soft brogue of Crowley whispering in her ear, a replay of their deal. Her stomach churned at the memory, so she concentrated on breathing. Unfortunately, she lost track of the conversation going on around her, until Sam touched her arm lightly.

"Kayla?"

Wide-eyed and startled, she blinked a few times at him, before realizing that everyone was waiting on her. "Huh, yeah, what?"

Sam glanced at the others, concerned. Before he could voice it though, Castiel stepped forward, placing himself directly before Kayla. "I would like you to accompany me. If I am called away, you can bring our quarry back here." He lifted his hand, palm up, for her, and she mutely accepted.

Before Sam or Dean could protest, they were gone.

* * *

Between one blink and the next, they were elsewhere. Castiel allowed his hand to drop, freeing Kayla from his grip. She looked around the small house while Cass concentrated on honing in on his senses. A thick layer of dust lay over everything; the kitchen table leaned precariously on two broken legs. Kayla moved sideways slightly, noticing the footprints that they both left behind.

"I don't like this," Kayla murmured softly, giving voice to the rising bad feeling in her stomach.

Castiel glanced over his shoulder at her, pausing to see if she would continue to give voice to that feeling. She did, but not how he expected. Instead of continuing to speak, she crossed the room to him, and reached out for his hand. He didn't resist as she twined her fingers into his. She was shaking.

"Are you afraid?" Castiel asked gently, pausing in his search. His brows rose as Kayla shook her head negatively.

"Something here is." she clarified when she caught his expression. "It's... overwhelming.."

Cass didn't answer, but he squeezed her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring way. She moved beside him until they came to a narrow hallway, lined with shelves. A few remaining canned goods hinted that this was once a pantry. As she slipped into single file behind Cass, the taste of fear in her mouth was so overpowering that she wanted to drop to her knees and hide from it. Castiel stopped before a door recessed slightly into the pantry wall.

One glance at Kayla told him what he needed to know. She wouldn't be accompanying him down the stairs into the basement. He pondered her overwhelming, irrational fear of going underground, but could find no understandable reason for it. Turning in the hallway, he took hold of her shoulders to draw her attention directly to him.

"Meet me back at Bobby's in five minutes."

She nodded mutely in agreement, and watched him push open the door slowly. As his footsteps receded down the stairs, Kayla shivered, bit her lip, and peered around the empty, abandoned house. She counted time slowly to herself, closing her eyes as she retreated step by step away from the basement wall. When she opened her eyes again, everything was different.

The walls were pristine white, except for one which bore sigils painted in blood. Castiel was there, standing before the wall, but so was the rest of the gang. As she watched, the circle around which the sigils were drawn dissolved to reveal a dark hole, and out of that hole emitted a brilliant stream of white light. For a split second, Kayla thought she could see faces within, screaming, angry faces. Castiel reeled for a moment as the light slammed into his body.

Just as quickly as it began the white light ended, the door closed, and Castiel stood still and silent. He drew a breath. His body rippled like oil on water, and as he raised his eyes, and turned slightly to look at the Winchester brothers, he suddenly exploded into a thousand meaty gobbets.

Kayla screamed. She stepped backward, and tripped, over the table with two broken legs. Sitting in the dust and broken wood, panting hard, she wondered what the hell was happening to her. Closing her eyes, she pictured herself at Bobby's and was there with a flicker of a thought. She appeared just a few feet behind Castiel.

A lot was going on at once. The brothers seemed to be interrogating whatever it was Cass brought back for them. Cass himself turned halfway to acknowledge Kayla's arrival with a slight nod. Bobby was loading guns nearby.

"We have to move this along," Cass said softly, as he laid his hand on the head of the captive. Bright light emitted from her eyes and mouth, and in moments, her body slumped over, a smoking husk. He turned to look over his shoulder, and locked eyes with Kayla for a moment.

Dean grinned and accepted the shotgun from Bobby. Chambering a round, he found a bitter laugh on his lips, and gave it voice.

"Let's go take this Mother out."


	14. Chapter 13

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

_Pleas_

There was no way any of this was good. The Mother of All Monsters was dead, burned from the inside out by the ashes of a phoenix, but not after she revealed to the brothers that Crowley was alive. Now Kayla was listening to the three of them bicker back and forth about why this had been kept from them all. After all it had been Castiel who killed Crowley in the first place, and why would he lie. She had begged her way out of the discussion, simply by virtue of not having been around when any of this was going down. She couldn't reveal what she already knew to be truth, or she'd be violating her deal with Crowley.

The thought of that deal made her stomach churn once more. She covered her face with her hands for a moment, and the motion attracted Bobby's attention.

"You okay?"

Mutely, she nodded. When she pulled her hands from her face, she saw all three of them now watching her. She offered Sam and Dean a pale smile, and waved it off slightly. "Just tired, is all. I don't get how you guys just run like this, constantly..."

"Practice, sweetheart," Dean muttered. "Lifetime's worth."

Shooting Dean a sour look, Sam pushed his chair back from the table, and rose to offer a hand to Kayla. "You should get some sleep then. We can handle this. C'mon, I'll walk you up."

The nephil pushed his hand away, shaking her head. "You don't need to do that."

"Yes, he does." Bobby talked right over her protest. "Sam's gonna check the salt we laid down, and make sure we don't have another repeat of you getting snatched right from under our noses."

Glancing around the table, Kayla sighed, and resigned to her escort. He followed her up the stairs, and into Bobby's room. Sam was methodical about checking the windows, gently pushing a few piles of salt back into place where a curtain had disturbed them. Kayla sat on the edge of the bed, watching.

"Sam?" He made a questioning grunt, glancing at her while he worked. "Do you really think that Cass could lie to you?"

"I think he's desperate enough to." Sam said softly, coming over to sit beside her on the bed. "Dean doesn't think so though, but..."

"Aside from you, Cass is his best friend."

"Cass saved him. Brought him back to life. Saved me too. He's done a lot for the two of us. But... I don't know. Something Eve said, something about the way she said it." Sam rubbed his face, then cradled his head in his hands. "I just don't want Dean getting hurt."

Kayla thought she saw motion out of the corner of her eye, and turned to look. Nothing was there in the shadow behind the doorway, but she couldn't help feel like she was being watched. She couldn't think of anything to say, to soothe Sam or his fears, mostly because she was at complete odds. Her side of this argument had been picked for her already.

* * *

As soon as her eyes closed, she was in the warm, white room again. Turning around, she looked for Cass, but only found the white expanse. Confused, she drew breath to speak, but suddenly found a room laid out before her. Like the dioramas she had made as a child, this was laid out in complete detail, and it looked familiar. As she stepped up over the lip onto the tiled floor, she recognized the scene. It was the same one that had flashed before her earlier.

Once she knew where she was, the empty set was populated by bodies. Bobby and Dean lying on the floor, smashed tables and glass all around them. Crowley leaning back with his eyes covered; a woman Kayla had never seen before, with a rictus of hatred on her face, stretched forward as though she could stop the central figure. And Castiel, standing before the wall. His fingers were smeared with blood, a slip of paper caught frozen in midair as it fluttered from his hand. Kayla scanned around, looking for Sam, only to spot him at the top of a set of stairs, looking bewildered and confused.

Where was her part in all of this? Where would she be when this all went down? As she was wondering, moving among the frozen tableau, the world started to move, flickering like an old movie projector struggling with the film. A stream of power rocketed from the wall to strike Castiel in the chest, lifting him clear off his feet. The light in the room pulsed, twice; Castiel's voice rose in a scream of pain.

And he exploded. Taking everything, and everyone in the room with him. Bloody gobbets of flesh and stained scraps of cloth drifted down around Kayla, as she stared in mute, numb shock. Lowering her face to her hands, she scrubbed her eyes, tried to scour the memory from her mind. As she lifted her head once more, the tableau had reset. Everyone was back in position. Everything had returned to how it once was. As Kayla began to hyperventilate, the scene flickered and rolled into motion once more...

* * *

In the dark hours before dawn, Kayla woke with a start, tears streaming down her face. She had found quickly that she could affect the tableau in her dreamscape. But after nearly thirty tries, she had yet to save all of them. Sitting up in bed, she wrapped her arms around her knees, and tried to figure out what to do about it.

"Castiel?" she whispered to the empty room. "I don't know if you can hear me.. but... we need to talk. Soon."

She waited, but nothing happened. Unfolding herself from the bed, she changed into something a little warmer than her shorts and camisole. She was trying to figure out just how she wanted to handle this, letting her body act on autopilot for a little while. As she padded down the stairs, she could hear Bobby's voice growling at someone. Stopping halfway down, she sat on the stairs, giving herself a good view of what was happening in the study. The three of them, Sam, Dean and Bobby, were torturing and interrogating something confined in a circle. She recognized the circle easily enough, from one of the many books she'd been given to read, and figured they were trying to get Crowley's whereabouts from a demon.

Watching them, her eyes caught a flicker of motion off to their side. But as soon as she looked directly for it, it disappeared. Moving her eyes away again, she became, once more, aware of motion at the edge of her peripheral vision. The longer she didn't look at it, the more resolved into a form it became. Just as soon as she thought, she could get a good look, and she shifted her eyes back, it was gone once more.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, and then rubbing the back of her head, she climbed the stairs once more. This time, she retrieved her sneakers and her jacket, and took a few moments to compose a note for the brothers, assuring them that even though she wasn't there, she was fine. Setting the note down on the center of the bed, where she was sure it would be found, she closed her eyes, and formed the rumpled, unshaven face of Castiel in her mind. For a moment, she encountered resistance, as though he didn't want to be found. But she pushed, and felt the world give way, slipping away from her to reform as somewhere new.

Opening her eyes, she found herself in a park, somewhere where it was autumn. The trees had shed most of their leaves, and the ground was covered in a blanket of muted reds and golds. It didn't take her long to find Cass; he was seated on a stone bench, not far away, with his hands clasped before him and his head bowed. He looked for all the world as though he were praying, and for a split second, Kayla hesitated. She was intruding on an intensely private moment for the angel.

Just as she was about to leave, he lifted his head. Neon blue eyes focused on her, and he rose to his feet in one smooth motion. His mouth opened, lips parting as though he were about to speak. He had asked God for a sign, and looked up to find the nephil standing before him, not ten yards away. There could be no coincidence about that. He took a breath to speak, but she beat him to it.

"We seriously need to talk," she blurted out, coming toward him quickly. "I can't... and there's... We shouldn't... Besides.."

He grabbed her hands as she gesticulated, unable to finish her sentences. It was as though all her agitation and fear just welled up at once, jumbling up her thoughts and forcing words out of her mouth in the wrong order. "Slow down. Sit with me." He guided her gently to the bench and coaxed her to sit down. She'd been through a lot, and her agitation was understandable, but he firmly believed now that God had sent her to him. He needed to hear what she had to say.

He kept her hands still, holding onto them, angling on the bench so that his knee brushed against hers. It seemed to do the trick, calming her and focusing her at the same time. "We can't do this." She stated as soon as she had settled. Cass raised a brow, wondering what had brought on this change. "Cass, it doesn't end well, for anyone."

"How do you know this?" The furrow in his brow was coming back, as he tried to factor this new development into his plans.

"Dreams. I guess." Kayla drew her hands away from him, and began to sink into silence. She wasn't comfortable with any of these developments. Cass could see he was going to lose her support, and he couldn't afford that.

"Dreams, or visions?" As he asked, her eyes darted to meet his for a split second. It was all the confirmation he needed to know. "Why don't you tell me what happens in them, and perhaps together we can discover a way to circumvent the tragedy?"

There came that look once more, the dubious, hesitant glance that told Castiel that there was a much deeper and more fundamental problem at the source. He waited a few moments, and was rewarded for his patience.

Kayla took a long deep breath. "I know you're planning on changing your deal with Crowley." He tried not to let the surprise register on his face, and apparently succeeded, because she forged onward. "Don't change it first... If you change it before the door is open, he brings in a... a woman... a black woman with gold eyes..."

"Raphael." Cass put the name to the vessel immediately. Kayla drew a breath, but stopped herself.

"I thought-" Suddenly, she shook her head, and dismissed the thought. "Nevermind that. But, you have to bluff the door, or something Cass. Because the moment you open it, everyone dies. You, me... the Winchesters... Bobby... the world..."

"You know I can't do that." Castiel spoke gently, as though he were speaking to a child. "You know I have to do this, to open the door." The weight began to settle on his shoulders, as he openly confirmed all he was planning. "Sam suspects that I have not been forthright with them, Dean denies this. Balthazar has already agreed to betray me. All that is left to me is you, Kayla."

"Fat lot of good I am," she turned away, crossing her arms and closing herself off further from him. "A powerless nephil who can hardly handle a gun."

Cass hesitated. He had seen this behavior often enough in the brothers to know that nothing he could say would change her mind. Instead, he felt he had to show her. Unwilling to give her an option, Castiel reached out and grabbed Kayla by the shoulders, forcing her to face him, and look him square in the eye. Although startled, she locked gazes and drew a deep breath. Cass didn't wait. Once her attention was focused, he folded the world, and whisked her away with him.


	15. Chapter 14

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

_Written in Sand_

It took a moment for Kayla to get her bearings. It was one thing when she transported herself, but a completely different story when it was done for her. Her hands tightened on Castiel's sleeves, as she wavered on her feet for a moment. For his part, Cass didn't move, content to serve as her rock until the world anchored itself beneath her feet. When she finally stepped back away from him, and lifted her eyes to survey her surroundings.

"No. No..." Kayla took a step back from him slowly, recognizing the tableau before her. The walls, the stainless steel table, the stairway. She began shaking her head, and backing away from Castiel. "Please, don't make me go through this again."

She bumped into a desk, and started as though the wood would bite her. Cass took a few steps forward, following her retreat through the room.

"Kayla, please, you have to trust me. It's going to be alright. Just tell me about your visions. About what you saw, what was done. Tell me, and we can make sure everything turns out just fine."

"It's not going to be fine!" Kayla countered. "Sam comes down those stairs.. and you.. you... _explode!_ You can't do this, Cass. Please. Everyone is going to get hurt. You, me, Sam, Dean, Bobby, everyone!" She couldn't back away any further. She'd gone around the desk, and now felt her back against the wall. The -Wall-. This was exactly where the sigil was painted, the mental image of the blood dripping down the wall flashed in her head, unbidden. When she recoiled from the cold tile, she bumped straight into Castiel's chest.

Automatically, he took her by the shoulders, keeping her fast. He couldn't understand why she was so terrified, of this place, worse yet, of him. It was bad enough that he'd lost Sam and Dean's trust. But she was a nephilim. The world feared her, not the other way around. He shook his head slightly, and gave her shoulders a spin, turning her around.

"You don't have to witness this, Kayla."

"No!" She twisted from his grip in a sudden flurry of movement, leaving Castiel to furrow his brow and watch her carefully. "I won't let you do this."

"I'm afraid you have no choice." Castiel's voice held such sadness that it even astounded him. "Stay here, Kayla. Stay safe. Stay out of sight."

"But-" He was already gone by the time she voiced her protest. For a moment, she narrowed her eyes, and thought of following him. But instead, she chose to take his advice, to stay here, and stay low. After all, so long as she was here, she had a chance to stop the horrible from happening.

* * *

Castiel returned to the warehouse after confronting Crowley, and dealing with Balthazar. He fully expected to be greeted by another tirade from the nephil, but instead, found her asleep, her head resting on her arms at the table. He had to admire that. She was staying true to her word, even at the sacrifice of her friendship with the Winchesters. Cass set the jar of blood off to one side, and approached the table. Reaching down, he laid his hand against the crown of her head, and gently began to stroke down the length of her hair. He wished there was another way. He wished he knew the secret to controlling her power, so he could just tear the bindings from her Grace and let her ibe/i.

She stirred beneath his hand. "I won't let you explode..." she murmured, when he withdrew his touch. Straightening up, she rubbed her eyes, and lifted them to study his haggard face. "I won't let anyone die today."

He was impressed with her conviction. "Then, it's time to get started."

She pushed herself up from the chair, rolling her shoulders, and putting on a brave face. "What do you need me to do?" Castiel didn't answer, except to press his angel blade into her hand, curling her fingers around the hilt, and giving them a squeeze. She nodded, getting the message loud and clear. With another deep breath, she shifted her grip on the blade, and looked around the room carefully.

Cass retrieved the ritual from his jacket pocket, unfolding the paper slowly and studying it once more. He drew breath to speak, when around them, from outside the room they occupied, screams erupted. Kayla nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning around in place with the angel blade brandished before her.

"Careful, now, Poppet, you'll hurt someone with that." Crowley's voice was smooth as silk. He reached out, and gently diverted the tip of the blade away from him. "So grand to see you're holding up your end of the deal. Too bad Feather-head there sought to renegotiate the terms of our deal."

Kayla glanced to where Cass had been standing moments before, only to find him gone. The warm sense of his body appeared immediately between herself and Crowley, causing her to take half a step backward. Castiel had his palm against Crowley's forehead, but nothing was happening.

"Sorry, mate, new partner... new digs and all that." Crowley smiled broadly. The air became oppressive, weighing down upon their shoulders, as the wildcard descended in a flutter of unseen wings.

Castiel named the angel within the Nubian vessel, speaking it as thought it where a curse: "Raphael."

Crowley chuckled softly, as Castiel took a step back, revealing Kayla standing behind him, clutching the angel blade. "Guess I get to own you after all..." One dark eye closed in a wink, and the nephil visibly shuddered. "Now, hand over the jar, and we won't have to kill you."

"No." Kayla stomped her foot. In any other circumstance, it probably would have been ridiculously cute. "No!" It was spiraling out of control. She would keep her end of the deal, she would make sure it was Castiel who opened the door. She refused to become a demon's plaything. In her desperation, she fought against herself. There was power somewhere in there. She could do something. She had to. She grabbed the back of Cass' jacket, and... suddenly the world shifted.

"Wha-" Cass felt the cloak of her power settle around them. She very nearly fell to her knees, but her grip on his trenchcoat kept her upright. She made a pained sound, even as Castiel leaned forward slightly to inspect the immobile forms of Crowley and Raphael standing before him. Kayla's fingers unclenched from his jacket, and she staggered to the table, using it to hold herself up. Her eyes blazed with Grace, her tenuous grasp of the power contained within her slipping every second.

"Hurry!" She gasped.

He didn't have to be asked twice, Cass untwisted the cap of the jar, and dipped his fingers into the mixture, starting to draw on the wall. Almost simultaneously, Dean and Bobby burst through the door on the upper level, making such a racket that Kayla's control slipped just enough. Raphael's arm moved, hand spreading to drop his own angel blade into his vessel's grip. Kayla clenched her fist, and tried to tighten the control, getting a strangled sound from Raphael in response.

Dean's voice carried down the stairs, and he and Bobby began to race down to the main floor. Castiel barely looked up from his work, but the stairwell twisted beneath their feet to send them both tumbling. Castiel spread his hands, and began to intone the spell. Kayla felt a surge of triumph. So long as he opened the door, she was free. She figured she could deal with the rest of it after. Her control slipped again, this time, Raphael managed to raise her arm high over her head, blade glinting maliciously in the shifting lights.

"Cass!" Kayla gave a strangled cry of desperation.

"_I__anua magna aperta tandem!_" Castiel's voice boomed out, shaking the windows. The floor began to vibrate, knocking Dean off his feet, and into the desk with a crash. Kayla staggered, her untried power giving out beneath the stress of the moment. She barely got her blade up in time to block Raphael's strike, before scrambling backwards out of the archangel's reach.

It was happening too fast! Castiel raised his arms, opening himself to the gateway, and the gathering light in the center of the maelstrom. Kayla shouted wordlessly, flinging away the angel blade, and lunging for Castiel. She hit him the same moment that the souls streaming from Purgatory did. There was a brief moment where they both were subsumed in the stream of souls screaming out of the Doorway, before she wrestled him to the ground outside of the stream. As soon as the souls no longer had a target, they splintered off into many rivers, twisting and twining through the room.

Crowley started leaping up, trying to grab the few that came close to him, while Raphael ducked and swore and watched in horror. Dean and Bobby lay prone on the ground, helpless as the world erupted into chaos around them. Oddly enough, only Sam, barely arrived on the scene, moments before, had enough presence of mind to actually disrupt the Doorway. He hurled a piece of rebar, cold iron, into the portal, which with screaming, clawing protest, seemed to implode upon itself.

Chaos calmed, but for a split second. As soon as the souls escaped, Crowley vanished in a puff of smoke. Raphael lunged forward, scrambling for her angel blade, and closing in upon the two forms huddled before the wall. Sam's voice shouted a warning, and Cass looked up, eyes blazing with fury. As soon as his gaze met the archangel, Raphael exploded into tiny, quivering, gobbity bits.

Sam skidded across the floor on his knees, coming to a stop right beside Castiel. The nephil lay in his arms, draped across his lap, her eyes closed gently in the most peaceful repose. Castiel ran blood-smeared hands through her hair. Dean struggled out of the desk's debris, and eventually helped Bobby up as well.

"Dean! DEAN!" Sam's voice hit panic-mode. "She's not _breathing!_" The younger Winchester practically had to wrestle the inert body from the angel.

"Do something, Cass!" Dean scolded, practically smacking the angel upside the head as he joined them.

"I... this... it wasn't supposed to happen this way."

Dean just stared at him, as Sam tipped Kayla's head back, and started looking for the right spot to do chest compressions.

"Damn idjit, Castiel! Heal her! You're a damned angel!" Bobby beat his hat in his hands, knocking it back into the proper shape before cramming it on his head.

Cass seemed to blink himself out of his stupor. "Yes.. yes, of course.." Reaching out, he laid his hand on Kayla's chest, and closed his eyes, letting his Grace seep through the contact. For a few long moments, nothing happened, and Cass furrowed his brow thoughtfully. He tapped on his chest, like someone would tap on a microphone to check for functionality.

Sam was about to resume CPR when Kayla took a deep, sudden breath in, her eyes snapping open. She started coughing, deep, body-wracking sounds. Sam helped roll her over onto her side, where she curled up into the fetal position, her arms covering her head and ears instinctively. Dean reached out to touch her shoulder.

She flew into motion, knocking his touch away, and trying to scramble back from the group of them. Again, her hands went to her head, as though she were trying to hold herself together. Castiel watched her for a few moments more, before his features softened with dawning understanding.

"oh.. no.." he managed to breath the words just before Kayla began to scream.

Her body emitted a blinding white light, angelic Grace supercharged by the power of a human soul. The three mortals raised their hands over their eyes, trying to block the surge of light and power. The sound she made was one of complete pain, and utter torment, and the light seemed to just increase with the sound that was torn from her throat, until all at once, it just seemed to pop out of existence.

Dean scrubbed his eyes, trying to blink away the afterimages. As his vision adjusted to the absence of the light, he noticed that she was gone. The floor smoked faintly where she had been kneeling, and when Dean turned to ply questions at Castiel, he was absent as well, with nearly a dozen little vapor trails raising from where he had knelt.


	16. Epilogue

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

_**Epilogue**_

_Quartet_

_Sam_

He had a handle on it. He had to. His head still hurt, and sometimes, just sometimes, he got flashes of images that he couldn't explain. But, all in all, he figured that was just okay. But he was worried. They hadn't heard from Castiel in weeks. There'd been no chatter over the hunter lines, other than the normal abnormal stuff. And Kayla was still missing. Sam was trying to drown himself in research, but that never seemed to work for very long. There was so much going on, and yet, everything seemed so quiet.

Sam leaned back from his book just as Bobby poked his head into the study.

"Are ya reading Enoch again, Sam?" When Sam nodded in answer, Bobby eased his way further into the room. "And? Find anything new?"

"Still nothing." Sam sighed, hands placed palm down on the desk. "No idea what happened. No idea where she went. No idea about Cass either."

Bobby put a bottle down on the desk beside Sam's hand. "Nothing but a bunch of dead ends. Maybe there's nothing to find, Sam. Maybe... maybe, it's time we face that she may be gone."

"No." Sam didn't reach for the beer yet, instead, clenching his fists on top of the book. The pain of his fingernails digging into his flesh grounded him into reality, giving his eyes a sharp look as he focused on Bobby. "I won't believe that. She's an innocent, Bobby. I won't let her be dead."

Bobby rubbed the back of his head. "I didn't say nothing about _dead_, son. I think we saw what Cass was so scared of: A full-powered nephilim without any way to control it."

"So, even if she's out of control, we find her, and we find a way to control her. I'm not abandoning her Bobby. There's nothing you can say to change my mind." Sam squared his shoulders, and reopened the Book of Enoch.

Beside him, Bobby sighed softly. "I wish I had your faith, son. I really do." Bobby clapped Sam on the shoulder, giving the young man a heartfelt squeeze. "I'll leave you to it then."

Sam watched him leave the room, and close the door cautiously behind him. Frustrated, he began rubbing his eyes again. So much of his head was filled with chatter and static, half-there images of torture and hatred, misery and pain, and worse yet, half-heard calls and shouts of his name, drifting to him as though muffled by very thick walls...

* * *

_Castiel_

"Wait! Wait! He's waking up! Get back, give him some room..."

Castiel's head felt like... like that time he'd gone and drank the liquor store. He didn't immediately recognize the voice over him, at least, not until his vision cleared, and he could see once more. Blinking away the blurriness, he focused on a prim-looking red-head, in a dark, three-piece suit. He felt himself scowling before he even realized he was doing it.

"Naomi?" He went to sit up, and his world swam, but her hands were immediately on his shoulders, pushing him back down.

"Easy, Castiel. Easy." Her tone was gentle, and a brief smile flitted over her lips. "You weren't easy to put back together."

"Put... ? I don't understand..." Cass obeyed though, leaning back. The chair was comfortable, a recliner, like the one Bobby had. He ached right down to his very core, a low, dull throbbing pain that he wasn't accustomed to.

"The nephil... When it awoke, it... it... tried to destroy you." Naomi let her hand slide down his shoulder, until she grasped his hand. He tried to study her, while trying to reflect on exactly what had happened. Purgatory had been opened. He'd gotten a handful of souls, before...

"No.." Cass contradicted the blue-eyed angel facing him. "Kayla wouldn't hurt me. She.. she saved me."

"It did not save you, Castiel. It condemned you. It made you open the Door. It made you strike a deal with a demon... it is the cause of all this... the ro-"

Naomi shut up quickly when Castiel suddenly sat up. "Do not try to twist me, little sister..." He knew her: she was a bureaucrat, head of the garrison that oversaw a mortal's admittance into Heaven. "Kayla-" -how hard he stressed her name, assuring himself that the angel could hear - "- _saved_ me."

Naomi took a step back from him. "If that's what you want to call it," she said quietly. She nodded, and two angels that Cass hadn't sensed before, backed away from his chair. "However you want to look at it, Castiel, the fact remains: you awakened it. You will kill it. You know, as well as I, that we can't suffer the nephil to live. When it resurfaces, it will destroy the world, and there will be no coming back from its destruction."

Castiel pushed himself to his feet, rising slowly. "And if I find a way to control it?"

Naomi's vibrant blue eyes met his, somber and thoughtful. "I pray you do, Castiel. For the sake of humanity, I pray you do."

* * *

_Kayla_

Running didn't get her anywhere. Hiding was even worse. No matter where, or how she moved, they found her. They always found her. The whispers. The voices. The cries. Ceaseless and constant, sometimes they sounded distant, trapped in a far-off room, sometimes, they sounded right beside her ear, whispering heinous things into her head. She didn't want to fight them, whenever she thought to raise a hand against them, her head burned with a pain that threatened to drive her mad... if she wasn't there already.

She was so close to giving up. To letting the voices catch up to her, so that she could see what she was up again. _See_ was a relative term. Wherever she was, it was black, pitch dark. If she allowed herself to think about it, it smelled of earth and decay, of moisture, rot and madness. She didn't accept that she was underground, even though all signs pointed to that. Because that would mean that she was trapped, and she refused to believe that.

In the dark, something knocked her to the ground, sending her sprawling on her stomach. She lay there for a few moments, face down in the dirt, waiting for the inevitable.

_Pretty littlegirl... come to skin her knees and cry. Darklittle prettygirl, come to crunch the bones of angels.. sup the marrow of demons.. dance in the corpses of humanity... secrets held, secrets given, secrets learned._

"Leave me alone!" Kayla batted at the air with her hands, silencing the layered voices for just long enough. She scrambled back to her feet, and started running again, but the voices followed her, whispering, shouting, screaming, and crying all at once, hundreds of them, layered together into one terrible miasma of sound.

_Yummy when they run. Fear. Terror. Hatred. We're so hungry. Feed us. Let us touch you. Trapped. Forgotten. She'll be like us soon enough. Starved. Hungry. Fingers. Hands. Touching. Needing._

_DON'T FLEE US!_

Kayla hit a wall, and spun, bouncing off the dark edges of the cave, she raced into the darkness, her heart hammering against her chest. There was no way out of here, she couldn't find it. She couldn't see the faces of anyone in her mind; she couldn't calm enough to focus that way. Instead, the cajoling, whispering, whining voices that came at her from all sides, finally got what they wanted. She spun again, and screamed, a visceral sort of primal cry, that came from deep inside. For a moment, the cave grew bright, as Grace illuminated the darkness. The voices cried out in ecstasy, dark shadows within the light reaching for her as she poured her emotions into her voice.

High above, Mount Sinai trembled.

* * *

To Be Continued...

* * *

Author's Note: Stay tuned for what could be called: "Careful what you wish for: Season 2." Now that I have my alternate universe set up, I can run where I want to with this. My take on what Purgatory is.. plus, more on my interpretation of Nephilim, Angels, and what _really_ got released when that Door was opened. Thanks for reading!


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